


A World Without You

by DocWordsmith



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Avengers Family, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Awesome Wanda Maximoff, BAMF Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Banter, Because Deadpool, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Compliant, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, FrostStrange, Genius Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), M/M, Mention of One-Sided Stucky, Multi, Multiverse, Nick Fury is Not Amused, PoW, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Precious Peter Parker, Sarcasm, Shh don't ask questions, Some mentions of torture, Taking a lot of liberties here, Team as Family, The Avengers Are Good Bros, There will be feels, Tony Stark Feels, Wade Wilson Breaking the Fourth Wall, Wakanda (Marvel), Why do I keep adding more characters?, fury has a flerken phobia, mcu/mu, mostly canon at least, spiderverse, why are there so many tags, young avengers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2020-06-30 00:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 123,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19841797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DocWordsmith/pseuds/DocWordsmith
Summary: Post-Endgame. The remaining Avengers are trying to rebuild their lives in the wake of Thanos and all the destruction he wrought. Some lost more than others. Some are gaining something new. They are all learning to heal, move forward, and live in a world without some of their best loved heroes and friends. (Endgame & Far From Home compliant, mostly - & yes, there will be spoilers)





	1. New Normal

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been trying to process the outcome of Avengers: Endgame. Although I am, ultimately, railing against the canon events, I figured I better at least try to consider what the Marvel movie-verse might look like from this point forward. So, this fic is basically about how the characters heal after their second round with Thanos, and where life takes them from there. Also, there's one character I simply could not let go of, so I'm including a fix-it for why he is alive (& one of the focal points of this fic). Not gonna lie: I'm not 100% positive where, exactly, this is gonna go – mostly, just a lot of FEELS. And I am going to try to update semi-regularly, but can't make any promises. Enjoy, and please share your thoughts in a review.

The eight- year-old made her way through the hallways of the Avengers compound as casually as she could manage. The hallway – and the compound itself, for the most part – was empty, which wasn’t out of the ordinary these days. The girl’s destination was at the farthest edge of the compound and was even more deserted than the rest of the complex. She readjusted her sparkly purple backpack, careful not to damage the previous contents she was smuggling.

When the hallway ended at a door, the girl stood on her tip-toes to reach the keypad, where she pressed her thumb to a fingerprint scanner, waited for the beep, and then entered the pre-set passcode: 3-0-0-0

The keypad flashed a green light and sounded a series of ascending beeps. Then, F.R.I.D.A.Y. proclaimed, “ _Identity recognized: Morgan Stark. Entry: Granted_.” The doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and Morgan walked through.

“ _Welcome to the Stark Wing_ ,” FRIDAY’s automated voice announced.

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” Morgan chirped back to the AI.

The Stark Wing was less a full wing of the compound and more like a mini-laboratory/workshop, with what was comparable to a studio apartment attached, complete with a bathroom, bed, seating area with a small TV, and a kitchenette.

Gingerly placing her backpack on the table in the workshop, Morgan unzipped it, reached in, and produced the recognizable vibranium helmet. Of the collection of old, outdated suits that was stored in one of the many garages on the compound, this one – the red and silver Mark V – was one of her favorites. She placed it on the table, positioning it so the eyes of the helmet were facing her. Patting the top of the helmet, as one would a child on the head, she said, “Time to get to work, Daddy.”

From within another pouch in the backpack, the girl pulled out a circuit board and several small tools. She laid each item on the table, organizing and lining them up. Once all the contents had been freed from the pack, Morgan picked up a small tool that resembled a pen-light. Except, it had a laser on the end. She pressed the tip to the circuit board, triggering the laser, before skillfully maneuvering it along the board. After about 15 minutes, the girl set the laser-pen down and inspected her work.

“Looks good to me,” she mumbled, tilting the circuitry to ‘show’ it to the Iron-Man helmet. Then she grabbed a pair of needle-nose pliers and used those to move around wires in an inner-segment of the board. Another 10 minutes or so ticked by. Morgan was focused intently on her work, biting the inside of her cheek as she stared down at her project.

Only when she heard the faint beep of the keypad outside the door did Morgan look up. She set her tools down and spun around in her chair, watching the door. The ascending beeps rang out and the doors slid open as FRIDAY announced the person’s presence, “ _Identity recognized: Wanda Maximoff. Entry: Granted_.”

“Auntie Wanda!” Morgan exclaimed sweetly, jumping off the chair and racing over to the auburn-haired woman in the doorway.

“Oof,” Wanda groaned slightly as Morgan crashed into her, hugging her waist. “Hello to you, too, little one.” After patting the girl’s back, Wanda gently grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her from the embrace. Wanda dropped to one knee so she was eye-level with Morgan. “I have been looking all over for you,” she said sternly, her Sokovian accent seeming thicker from the worry.

Morgan frowned. “I’m sorry, Wanda, but I have this project—”

"Next time, you tell me first, yes?" Wanda interrupted before she sighed and tousled the girl’s brunette locks.

With a nod, Morgan skipped back over to the work table. Wanda dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh, leaning her head back. She listened to the sounds of Morgan’s tools clicking and thumping, with a small hum or whir now and then, and closed her eyes. It was quiet times like these that she truly felt the weight of the last three years, and the five years before that. And the years before that, even; although, those days felt like they were a lifetime away comparatively. The last eight though? Every moment was ingrained in Wanda’s mind. From their civil war, which now seemed so foolish and like such a waste, to the fight in Wakanda, which for Wanda ended quite suddenly, like the blink of an eye.

And then, just as suddenly, in the next blink, Wanda had come ‘back’ and was charging into another fight. Which, in the grander scheme of things, they did win.

But they lost, too.

And the time since then has been dragging on, as all those who were left learned to live with their new normal. Which they all felt was profoundly lacking, although none of them would really say that out loud.

Wanda drew in a long, slow breath. She let the air fill her lungs and held it for a moment before exhaling even slower. She hoped that some of the weight, which had settled in the pit of her stomach, would expel with the breath. She wasn’t surprised, though, when she opened her eyes and the heavy, yet somehow empty, feeling was still there.

The sound of a zipper drew her attention. Wanda looked over to the work-table and watched as Morgan gathered up her materials. The girl moved with care, packing items into containers or sheathing them in sleeves before slipping them into her backpack. As Wanda pushed herself off the couch, she couldn’t help but wonder where Morgan had put all her school supplies now that her pack was acting as a makeshift toolbox. With it being summer, though, Wanda decided not to bother asking. She would let Pepper worry about pencils and the like in a couple months when school was back in session. Wanda approached the work-table just as Morgan was reaching for the Iron-Man helmet, causing the girl to freeze with her arm in mid-air.

“What might this be?” Wanda asked suspiciously, picking up the helmet.

Images flashed through the Sokovian woman’s mind of the charismatic man who originally donned the metal suit. Wanda felt her eyes getting misty and she blinked a few rapid times.

“Your mother has been asking me how this keeps finding its way to different locations.” Looking at Morgan, she said, “I tell her, it must be growing legs and wandering the compound.” Then, with a wink, Wanda handed the helmet to the girl. She took it graciously, placing it in her backpack with extreme caution.

All packed up, Wanda expected her to jump up and head out. But Morgan sat very still, staring down at the table somberly. “I miss him,” she said, almost in a whisper.

“I know you do, _solnyshka_ ,” Wanda cooed as she ran her hands through Morgan’s hair. “I miss him, too,” she confessed.

Suddenly, Morgan looked up. “We’re absolutely sure there’s no way we could. . . ya know?”

Wanda sucked in a shuddery breath. Morgan had asked the question a million times before. It had been a while since she had last asked, though, and Wanda had hoped the subject was closed. How millions of people returned from the supposed dead was difficult enough to explain to a child. But then trying to tell that child that her father cannot also be raised from the dead was a whole other uphill battle.

“Morgan, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I know,” Morgan replied dejectedly. “I just guess I always kind of hoped that since you and Bucky and the others came back, that maybe there’d be some way. . .”

Leaning across the table on her elbows, Wanda looked in the girl’s amber eyes – which were hauntingly reminiscent of her father’s, except they were filled with light and an innocent hopefulness rather than the heavy sadness and desperation that had often shown in Tony’s. “You know that what happened to myself, and to Bucky and Sam and everyone, that was different.”

Morgan bit her lip, then softly asked, “Like how Vision can’t come back?”

The question hit Wanda like a ton of bricks. Emotion swelled and lodged in her throat. She cleared it, trying to regain the ability to speak. “Right,” was all she could manage.

“But my dad and Vision aren’t the same either, right?”

Wanda swallowed hard and nodded. “Right again, _milaya_.”

After a moment of silence and stillness, Morgan started nodding slowly. Then, she placed a hand on Wanda’s forearm. She looked up at Wanda with sheer determination. “My dad for sure can’t come back. But Vision. . . Maybe Vision is a different story.” Suddenly, Morgan got a far-away look in her eyes. The gears in her head reeled as a million possibilities raced through her mind and she quickly sifted through them, trying to determine what information was relevant and what could be discarded.

“Wait, what?” Wanda asked, shaking her head in confusion. Somehow, she always felt like she was about ten steps behind the girl, who had obviously inherited her father’s brilliance (but not the need to be a peacock and show off that intelligence – yet).

“You said Vision was an android. He came from my dad’s old AI. And, of course, Daddy was a major tech-hoarder. So all I need to do is pull up and restore his old records, reactivate a few things, and secure a strong enough energy source. Then, maybe. . .” the girl’s voice trailed off and she sat, still and quiet – looking at Wanda but really staring past her as she got lost in thought.

After a moment, Wanda waved a hand in front of Morgan’s face, causing her to shake her head and return to the present moment. “Sorry,” Morgan mumbled. She slid off the stool and straightened out her t-shirt. Flipping her long brown hair over her shoulders, she looked back to Wanda. “It was going to be a secret, and well, I guess in a way it kind of still might be but maybe I should tell you anyway?”

“What are you talking about?”

Morgan gave Wanda a determined look. “We may not be able to bring my dad back. But I will try to bring Vision back for you.”

“Ohhhh,” Wanda cooed. She stood up straight, stretching slightly. Wanda searched for the words to explain how impossible the task was. She knew, because she had already spent the last three years and some months trying the very same thing herself. She had already spent far too much time hoping beyond hope, and being angry, traveling and seeking solitude. And she had exhausted her powers, following whatever avenue she could think of – no matter how unsavory or seemingly irrelevant or impossible – in an attempt to restore even just a fraction of Vision.

All of it was to no avail and eventually Wanda came back to the Avengers. Back to her friends who were waiting with open arms and offering her a place, attempting to fill an immensely unfillable void. “Thank you, Morgan, but it is not possible,” she whispered.

Morgan was not one for giving up easily, though.

“Oh, but Auntie,” Morgan replied, almost sound patronizing, “that’s the thing. _Anything_ is possible. And if it is, I’m the one who can do it.” She beamed at Wanda.

Although Wanda didn’t want to allow herself to hope, when she saw the proud smile on Morgan’s face, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of infectious optimism. And, in reality, Wanda couldn’t deny that if anyone was capable of finding a way to do what no one else could do, it was probably Morgan H. Stark. “All right then,” the woman conceded. “You use that brilliant little mind for whatever you want. And if you can do it, it will be a happy surprise.”

If possible, Morgan’s smile grew even wider. She hoisted her backpack over her shoulders and gave Wanda a quick hug before turning and head toward the door. After punching the exit button on the wall, the doors parted and Morgan skipped into the hallway.

She looked back to make sure Wanda was following her. Stopping at the corner, Morgan called back, “Well, I better get this stuff,” Morgan bumped her backpack for emphasis, “back to my secret lab.”

“I thought the Stark Wing was your secret lab?” Wanda asked as she caught up to the girl, thumbing behind them.

Morgan rolled her eyes. “Noooooo, that’s my workshop.”

As they walked, Wanda asked, “Oh. So, then, where’s your secret lab?”

They approached a fork in the hallway and the little girl came to a full stop, giving Wanda a side-eye glance. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret.”

“Right,” Wanda said, slapping herself in the forehead with her palm. Morgan giggled and then they turned to the left, heading toward the main lobby of the compound.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Upon returning to the main entryway of the Avengers compound, Wanda and Morgan were greeted by a group of their cohorts. Bucky, Sam, Pepper, and Bruce were to be expected since they, like Wanda and Rhodey, had made the compound their permanent home. With them was Clint Barton and Peter Parker, both of whom must have recently arrived.

“Spidey!” Morgan cheered, racing forward and jumping into Peter’s arms, which probably would have knocked him off-balance had it not been for his abilities. He knelt down so he was eye-level with Morgan and gave her a proper hug.

“Hey, Wanda,” Clint said as she closed the distance between herself and the group. “Didn’t realize you’d started the babysitter’s club since you returned. Maybe I’ll have to bring my rugrats by more often!”

She gave him a sly smile and glanced over to Pepper and Sam. “I thought we agreed, his invitation was to be ‘lost in the mail’ this year?”

“Hey!” Clint jeered as he nudged the Witch in the side playfully.

In return, Wanda poked him in the ribs. For extra measure, she sent a surge of red energy through her fingertips, shocking the man. He jumped and let out a high-pitched squeak, sending a ripple of chuckles through the group. “Damn, that hurt!” Clint said, rubbing his side and glaring at Wanda.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t see anything,” he said, winking at Wanda.

“Of course, take _her_ side!” Hawkeye groaned, rubbing his side.

Bruce laughed as he removed his glasses to wipe them off. He flexed his right hand awkwardly and let out a small hiss of discomfort. A couple years earlier, he had decided to return to his ‘normal’ state, rather than remaining in his partial transition phase of “Smart-Hulk.” The damage that had been done by the makeshift Infinity gauntlet to his Hulked-out arm had been, for the most part, minimal. But once he went back to being “just-Bruce,” the injury became far more debilitating. Bruce had undergone physical therapy and countless state-of-the-art reparative techniques, courtesy of Wakandan, Stark, and Pym technologies. But he was still left with a badly damaged arm that served as a constant reminder of all they had been through. From the top of Bruce’s hand and edge of his wrist to just below his shoulder, remnants of the old but still too fresh injury encircled his arm with jagged scars. The skin around the scars was a tapestry of varying degrees of scar-tissue, with some patches softer and pinker than others. In some places, where it had been grafted to repair burns, the skin didn’t quite match at all.

Bruce rubbed his arm, which Wanda noticed had become something like a nervous tic for him, before lacing his hands together behind his back.

Sam cleared his throat slightly, calling Wanda’s attention to him. The leader of their group was dressed the part, wearing the stars-and-stripes outfit that Pepper had insisted be fitted for him. It was his “casual” version of the outfit, looking more like work-out clothes, compared to the armored version that he wore on heroic endeavors. The shield their old friend had bestowed upon him was strapped to his back, though, if for no other reason than solidarity.

“What’s up?” Wanda asked, sensing that running into the gang was no chance meeting. Peter joined them, toting Morgan on his shoulders.

Sam sighed before launching into an explanation. “I’ve had some of the team on a sort of surveillance detail, keeping an eye on various video feeds, news reports, et cetera, watching for anything out of the ordinary.”

Suddenly, Rocket forced his way forward, making Wanda jump back slightly. “Hi,” she said, putting her hand over her chest. “I didn’t see you.”

The raccoon’s whiskers twitched slightly as he nodded in acknowledgement of the Sokovian. “Sam here said to be on guard for psycho vigilante, Avenger-wannabes.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure I didn’t use those exact words. . .”

“I’m paraphrasin’,” Rocket told him, waving a paw dismissively.

“Anyway,” Sam said sternly, rolling his eyes. “Rocket said they picked up something and he wants to show us. We’re heading to one of the control rooms now, if you wanna check it out with us?”

“Sure,” Wanda nodded. She looked up at Morgan, high above everyone on Peter’s shoulders. “You’ll be all right if I go, _milaya_?”

Peter answered for her: “Sure, go, do. I’ll take care of this munchkin.” He bounced her slightly, sending laughter rolling through her.

“Yeah, I’ll stay with Spidey,” Morgan managed to say through her laughter.

“You’ll do as Peter says, right?” Pepper interjected.

“Yes, Mom!” Morgan moaned, feigning annoyance. She then clacked her heels against Peter’s chest. “Charge!” she ordered. Playing along, Peter let out a huff and a snort like a horse, before ‘galloping’ away down the hall.

Wanda laughed and shook her head, watching them, before turning to follow the rest of the group to the control room a few doors down in the other direction.

“This video was in an alleyway in Chinatown about two nights ago,” Rocket was explaining when Wanda walked in the room. Their furry teammate was standing on the office chair and, with a few keystrokes, pulled up a video file.

Bruce reached for the computer’s mouse, only to have his hand slapped away by Rocket. He shook his head at the raccoon, then looked to Sam, furrowing his brows slightly. “This is footage from CCTV?”

“We’re tapped into various systems and mainframes, yes,” Sam answered diplomatically.

“Just watch,” Rocket said with a small growl as he pressed the play button.

On the small screen, they saw an empty alleyway. Soon, a teenage boy and girl ran into the frame. The boy pushed the girl against the wall and kissed her. As the teens were busy making out, the screen showed that they were slowly being surrounded by four men, who were all armed. Likely some kind of gang. And it was only after it was too late that the teenagers became aware of their company. The boy on the screen spun around, standing in front of the girl as a human barricade.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light from the edge of the screen, dropping one of the criminals to the ground. Another flash clearly showed one of the armed men getting hit by the ray of light before dropping to the alley floor. The two remaining criminals raised their weapons – one with a knife and the other a handgun – and spun away from their original targets. Wanda let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding when she saw the kids take off running, disappearing from the scene unscathed. The criminals still standing in the alleyway looked around, searching for their assailant. Right on cue, a figure flew into the frame, crashing into one man, knocking the gun from his hands, and sending the one with the knife stumbling backwards. With a few more quick flashes, both men were dropped and the figure turned briefly toward the camera before shooting in the air and away. Then, the footage crackled out into nothing but static.

“Roll that back a few seconds, to just before the footage dies out,” Pepper ordered. Wanda knew that Pepper wanted to go back to when the person looked toward the camera. Rocket must have understood, too, because he silently obeyed, rewinding the video and pausing it at the moment just before the figure flew away.

“Is that. . .” Clint muttered, leaning toward the screen with his as his voice trailed off. He quickly stood up straight, surprise evident on his face. “That’s an Iron-Man suit.”

Pepper shook her head adamantly in response, biting her lip as she did. “No, there’s no Iron-Man suit that looks like that.”

Clint looked at the screen again, squinting his eyes trying to get a good look. “How can you tell? The image is so grainy—”

“I just know, okay?” Pepper exclaimed. “I am fully aware of every single suit he made and that is not one of them. Besides, he had a unique design approach. This,” she nodded toward the screen, “lacks his personal touch, his flair.” Her voice was heavy with frustration, among other emotions.

Wanda couldn’t help but notice how Pepper had avoided using Tony’s name. Maybe that made it easier for her – distancing herself. For Wanda, it was the opposite. She _had_ to think about her childhood with Pietro, _had_ to say Vision’s name, _had_ to talk about Tony in great detail with Morgan, _had_ to remember the exact cadence of Natasha’s voice when she laughed at a stupid joke. It felt necessary to talk about them and say their names, keeping the memories vivid and upfront rather than vague and shoved to a dark corner. Somehow it made them feel closer – like they weren’t really gone, but maybe they were just in the other room or on a long trip. Maybe Wanda was just in some perpetual state of denial about the permanency of the situation.

Bruce, who had finally managed to steal the mouse from Rocket, rolled the footage back another few seconds. “That,” he says, pointing to the screen, “is a repulsor blast. It looks pretty legit, as far as being connected to arc reactor tech and all that jazz.”

“It’s not his,” Pepper insisted.

“But it _is_ arc reactor tech?” Bruce pressed.

Pepper narrowed her eyes at him, obviously biting back her immediate reaction. “It’s not _his_ ,” she repeated.

“Okay,” Sam said, in that cool and collected way he has, trying to reign the situation back in. “The question stands: What do we do about this?”

Bucky was the one to pipe up. “Same thing we’ve been doing. Either we ask him to stop. . . or we stop him.”

Sam nodded firmly. “FRIDAY?” he called out.

“ _Yes, sir?_ ” The AI replied overhead.

“Monitor all video reports for anything similar to this, and try to track the location of the subject. Make it a top priority.”

“ _Certainly. I will notify the Team as soon as a location is triangulated.”_

Sam turned to the group and sighed. “Everybody’s gonna keep trickling in. Once we get this location, we’ll get a team together to go after this guy.”

“But everything’s still on track? This whole reunion thing?” Bucky asked, sounding hesitant.

“Yes,” Pepper answered definitively. Then, without another word, she turned and walked out of the control room, with her heels clacking to punctuate her exit.

Sam rubbed his hands together and said, “Guess we’re all, uh, dismissed. I’ll call you guys in if we need anything.”

With that, Rocket dropped down into the chair, letting it spin lightly before he turned it back to face the computers and start clicking through in an absent-minded manner. Bruce sighed, ran his hands through his hair, and then walked out, with Clint, Sam, and Bucky close behind.

Wanda turned awkwardly, balancing on the heel of her boot, trying to decide where to go. She had just lifted her foot to take a step when she heard the chair squeak and Rocket clear his throat. Still balancing on her heel, Wanda rotated slightly so she could face the creature.

“Uh, your, uh. . .” he wrinkled his nose, twitching his whiskers.

“Yes?” Wanda said, drawing the word out as she settled into a balanced position and folded her arms across her chest.

“Your, um, powers?” Rocket said, sounding unsure.

Wanda narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “What about them?”

“Well, it’s kind of like magic, right?” he asked, staring at the woman’s feet.

“I guess?” Wanda answered, not really having thought too much about defining or categorizing her abilities.

Rocket nodded slowly as his beady eyes darted around the room. The corner of his lip curled up slightly. Finally, he made eye contact with Wanda. “D’ya think I could have some?”

Wanda let out a laugh. “What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow when she realized he was serious.

In response, Rocket did a facepalm, looking frustrated about having to explain his request. “I have a lot of tech – very advanced, impressive, space tech – and I can’t always rely on being able to keep them charged or fueled up.”

“Oh-kay?” Wanda waved a hand in the air, encouraging him to continue.

“Ugh, okay, so,” Rocket groaned as he slipped out of the chair and walked up to Wanda. “I’ve found some, let’s call them ‘alternative’ power sources. The best is magic.”

He stared up at Wanda, expectantly. She sighed and crouched down so they were eye-level. “What is it you’re wanting, Rocket?”

Rocket held up a finger, indicating for Wanda to wait a minute. Then he jumped back up on the chair, rifling through a drawer in the desk. He turned back with a capsule-shaped device in his paws. Wanda took a few steps forward, inspecting the object as Rocket held it out to her.

“Think of this like a battery,” Rocket told her. “I’ve, uh, ‘collected’ tons o’ these. They store energy.” He pushed the capsule into Wanda’s hands. “If you could just channel some energy into one or two of these bad boys, that’d be great.”

Wanda held the capsule at arm’s length, looking from Rocket to the device and back again. “You’re serious?”

“It would really help me out. Ya know, just so I have various power sources on hand in case of emergency.” He stared at the Witch. “I’m not, like, singling you out. I plan on asking the Doc, too.”

“Dr. Strange?” Wanda asked, to clarify.

“D’you know any other doctors with magical powers?” Rocket told her derisively. “Look, all you have to do is open the capsule and put your hand on the open end. It’ll absorb excess energy. Bada-bing, bim-bam-boom, we’re good.”

Wanda stared at him. When he didn’t break the gaze or the silence, the woman slowly pulled the device closer to get a better look. It appeared to be harmless enough. And she had, over the years, come to trust Rocket. He may be foul-mouthed and abrasive, but there was no questioning his loyalty. And his motives were rarely as self-serving as he led people to believe they were.

After a minute, Rocket made a small whining sound. “Pleeeeaaaaasssssse?”

With a sigh, Wanda unscrewed the lid of the capsule. Gingerly, she placed her palm over the open space. Just as Rocket promised, red streams of energy started flowing into the tube. It took only a few seconds for it to fill. She lifted her hand and quickly replaced the cap. As she handed it back to Rocket, he was handing her another empty one. “Oh, come on!” But she grabbed the capsule anyway. “You are going to owe me for this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rocket replied, waving his paw dismissively. But a smile spread across his face and Wanda couldn’t help but smile back as she filled another capsule.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Peter Parker ‘galloped’ his way through the hallways of the Avengers compound, with Morgan on his shoulders. Finally, he came to a halt, panting. “Okay,” he said as he crouched down. “This ride is over. Everyone off. Come again!”

Morgan slid off Peter’s back, readjusting her backpack as she stood. Peter straightened up, stretching and rolling his shoulders, relaxing them after being relieved of the weight of an eight-year-old and a suspiciously heavy backpack. He turned to look at the girl and gave her a big smile. “Shall we continue?” he asked, holding out his hand. Morgan grabbed it and they continued walking down the hall.

“Pete?” Morgan asked after a moment. “Why, again, are there, like, a million people coming here?”

“Because we’re having our reunion this week. We do it every year – you know that, Kid.” Peter smiled, somewhat to himself, as he spoke the nickname he’d given the girl. In honor of her father – it was one of the few things he could do.

“The Avengers Reunion.” Morgan said softly. She nodded absentmindedly as they walked. “Gathering of the Avengers,” she continued, a bit louder and with a hint of playful grandiosity to her voice.

Peter chuckled. “We don’t have an official name for it.”

“We should,” Morgan decided.

Suddenly, Peter felt the hair on the back of his neck raise. He came to a dead stop in the middle of the hallway. Morgan, not expecting the sudden halt, took a few paces more and then was jerked back, steadied by Peter pulling her tight against his body. He glanced around the hallway anxiously, and then his attention was pulled to the room they were standing outside of, where the door was slightly ajar.

“What?” Morgan asked softly. Peter held a finger to his mouth in a silent ‘shh’ and released Morgan’s hand. He padded quietly toward the door, motioning for Morgan to stay put.

Pushing the door open, Peter peeked inside. It was an ordinary conference room, one of many within the compound. Nothing spectacular, or even odd or questionable, about it. And it appeared empty. Yet, Peter couldn’t shake the feeling of another. . . Presence. He reached up to his temple, only to find that he had forgotten his EDITH headset. It must be in his backpack in his room somewhere, from the trip to the compound. So he had no backup and was reliant on his just sixth sense.

Morgan pushed up against Peter, poking her head in the doorway to look around with him. “Spidey senses?” she whispered.

“Shh,” he said aloud this time, but he still nodded to confirm her question.

They both stood still and silent, awkwardly staring in the doorway of the seemingly empty room. After thirty seconds, Pete was about to give up, when suddenly someone shoved him from behind. He stumbled forward into the room with a yelp, barely catching himself on one of the executive chairs. Morgan let out a little squeal, rushing forward into the room to stand beside Peter.

“BOO!” A familiar voice hollered from behind Peter as he was still catching his breath, and footing. He spun around to face the intruder.

“Cassie Lang!” Peter exclaimed, mustering the harshest glare he could manage. Which, honestly, wasn’t much because upon looking at her, his anger deflated almost instantaneously.

“Gotcha,” Cassie chirped, placing her hands on her hips and looking way too proud of herself.

“That was RUDE!” Morgan accused, stomping her foot and matching Cassie’s hands-on-hips stance.

“Oh, c’mon. That was funny and you know it.”

“The jury’s out,” Peter retorted. To which Cassie merely rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall. She put a foot up on the wall behind her and crossed her arms. With her faded jeans, complete with holes and patches, heather-gray tank top underneath a faux leather jacket, and high ponytail, she looked all the part of a 50s greaser. Peter gave her a teasing smirk. “Did you just finish rehearsals for _The Outsiders_?”

Another eye-roll. But a smile pulled at the corner of Cassie’s mouth. “Stay gold, Pony-boy,” she told him in a soft voice.

“Peter sensed you, so you weren’t really that sneaky,” Morgan explained, still sounding somewhat offended.

That statement brought Peter’s senses back into focus, which had momentarily been distracted by Cassie’s appearance. He cursed himself again for forgetting EDITH as he realized the odd sensation was still there. Cassie must have noticed the look on his face because she frowned and asked, “What’s wrong, Petey?”

“It wasn’t you,” Peter replied, dropping his voice to a whisper. “There’s something, or someone, else.” His eyes darted around the room, but he saw nothing.

Then, he felt the lightest of breezes, caused by movement, from the far right side of the space – where there was a second door into, and out of, the room. Instinctively, he flexed his hand and shot a spider-web at that door, slamming it shut. He flicked his hand a few inches back and shot again, effectively hitting a target.

“Bloody hell—” a voice, this time unfamiliar and masculine, groaned.

“Show yourself,” Peter ordered. He kept his hand in web-slinging position, just in case, and purposely positioned himself so Morgan was behind him. Cassie left her relaxed position by the wall and sidled up next to Peter, also protectively covering the little girl, and took on a combat-ready stance.

Across the room, Peter’s web still hung in a ball in mid-air. There was a flash of gold and green, and a figure appeared. At the sight of the tall, dark-haired man, wearing green and black leather armor and robes, Peter felt a twinge of recognition. It spread quickly and he dropped his hands to his sides, cocking his head at an angle, mostly out of shock and confusion than anything else.

“. . . Mr. Loki?” 


	2. If You Give a Demigod Netflix. . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has returned and of course, he is lucky enough to be greeted by Peter Parker, Cassie Lang, and Morgan Stark. Banter ensues. The "grown-ups" show up, to decide whether they should let Loki stay or not - he swears he just wants to see his brother; Clint is holding a grudge; Rocket is a little shit; Loki & Groot have a meaningful discussion; and Bruce reminisces about Sakaar and the Devil's Anus. Good times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 2, my loves! I am over the moon at the positive response this fic has received already – wow, you guys are the best. So, I am working diligently and quickly to keep posting. This chapter was a struggle and I went round and round with it. I considered breaking it up, and even wrote a completely alternate version of it – eventually, I got this. Sorry it's a tad long since I decided not to split it up, but hopefully y'all enjoy it! After this chapter, we should be diving into some real PLOT stuff! Oh, & prepare yourselves because we're bringing Loki back (read as: this chapter is basically my shameless self-indulgence of Loki-love). Enjoy!

Peter and Cassie stared at the man across the room. Morgan forced her way past the human shields so she could get a glimpse, too.

"You look surprised to see me," Loki said, pretending to sound hurt.

"Uh, well, yeah," Peter muttered in response. Loki narrowed his eyes and approached, stopping a few feet away from the trio.

"We thought you were dead," Cassie blurted out. Her voice sounded hollow with surprise.

"Well. I'm not."

After a moment, Peter dubiously said: "Nahhhhhh. You were dead. Like, dead-dead. Thor said so – he _watched_ you die!"

Loki scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. "And you just believe everything Thor says? You can't listen to him. He's wrong all the time." He flicked his eyes toward Cassie, who furrowed her brows in suspicion. "Also, I _was_ dead – past-tense," Loki conceded.

Before anyone else could say anything, Loki glanced down at his web-covered right hand with a look that combined disgust and annoyance. He let out a drawn-out, overly dramatic sigh and then, as if out of thin air, produced a small dagger from within his other sleeve. In one fluid motion, he sliced through the web and shook all remnants of it from his hand, flexing his fingers as he did. "There," he said, making the dagger disappear as quickly as it had come. "Much better."

Peter's jaw dropped to the floor. "H-h-how—You just—But that was—And I—" the attempt at speaking came out in stilted phrases.

"Is this what a Midgardian stroke looks like?" Loki asked with an eyebrow raised.

Pete exhaled somewhat defeatedly and paused to take a deep breath. Then, he finally managed to ask, "How'd you do that?"

Loki blinked, watching him with confusion. "Do what?"

"Cut the web!" Pete exclaimed, gesturing exaggeratedly at Loki's hand. "That's legitimate spider silk. It's one of the strongest substances on Earth. And you just cut it with a little dagger?!"

At that, Loki actually looked offended. "That 'little dagger' is a highly proficient and respectable tool of swordplay. And your webbing," he said as he looked down with disdain at the discarded web on the floor, "may be strong for this Earth, but I am not from Earth." Then, with a devious smile, he added, "Plus, the dagger _may_ have been enchanted. So. You know: Magic."

Loki made a show of inspecting his cuticles, feigning boredom. As he did, the room fell silent and Peter took a moment to size up the figure who, until that moment, had remained only a legend to him. He knew that the founding members of the Avengers had faced off against Loki when he tried invading New York years ago. Although, they later discovered that was only at the coerced behest of Thanos – which was unnerving in its own right since it meant that the Titan had been a threat to Earth far longer than anyone had realized.

Of course, Peter also knew that Loki was Thor's adopted brother and they had a whole sordid history there. But when Thor spoke of him, in the rare times when he could push past his grief enough to actually talk about him, he seemed to only recall good times from more youthful years. Based on what Thor and Valkyrie, and even Bruce, said, it sounded like Loki had done a complete 180, actually turning into a brother, an ally, and a friend. Peter couldn't help but wonder if maybe the Trickster really had just been. . . misunderstood.

Loki cleared his throat, drawing Pete from his thoughts. When Peter regained his focus, the god had his arms folded across his chest and was smirking. "Enjoying the view?" he asked.

"Um, oh, it's just, you're not how I thought you'd be," Peter tried to explain. Loki's smirk faded slightly, replaced by cautious curiosity.

"And how did you think me?"

Pete tapped his chin thoughtfully. Finally, he said, "You're taller than I expected."

After a moment, Loki laughed. Perhaps he was prepared for something harsher, having girded himself for a verbal attack. The smile on his face almost looked like one of relief, and he unfolded his arms, shaking them out to release the tension he'd been holding. Loki tugged on the end of a sleeve, pulling it down and straightening it out.

Morgan's eyes wandered to the sleeve and she had to bite her tongue. She wanted desperately to ask him a million questions, starting with the dagger he had conjured moments ago – where did it come from? Where did it go? Are there more? Is it a trick or some kind of technology? Wait, magic is real? (Like, _actual_ magic, not Uncle Scott's magic?) How does magic work? – but something told her that now might not be the best time for her to satisfy her curiosity. Watching him straighten out his regal, otherworldly-looking clothes, though, Morgan couldn't contain herself. She took half a step forward and reached out her hand, taking hold of the man's long emerald-green coat. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers. It was softer than she thought it would be, yet still had a firm, almost leathery feel to it. "Wow," she mused aloud.

Loki looked down at the girl with an eyebrow quirked up. With rapid reflexes, Peter grabbed Morgan by the shoulders and yanked her backward, drawing her snug against him protectively.

"Hey!" she shouted, craning her neck to look up at Peter accusatorily. He simply let out a nervous chuckle, trying to look casual.

Seemingly unfazed by the interaction, Loki's eyes flitted up and down the trio, scanning them. Finally, he asked: "When did the Avengers start recruiting children?"

Cassie scoffed. "I am _not_ a child," she muttered, almost under her breath.

Peter tentatively raised his hand. "Um, technically, I'm the only one who's actually an Avenger here." Then, with one of his awkward chuckles, he added, "Also, I'm really five years older than I am. Because I was Snapped. So, that's, like, five years of my life I'll never get back." After a pause, Pete furrowed his brows and turned to Cassie. "Or, wait, is it five years of my life I _already_ got back?" He shook his head dismissively. "That always confuses me."

Loki's wide-eyed gaze danced from Pete to Cassie and back, then down to Morgan. Finally, he let out yet another heavy sigh. Pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, the God of Mischief softly said, "I believe now is the part of the film where I ask you to take me to your leader, and hope that you willingly comply."

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "Then you've been watching too many alien movies."

"Yes, well – if you give a demigod Netflix, he will binge." Loki deadpanned.

Morgan giggled at the image of the Æsir lounging on a couch flipping through Netflix. Peter nudged her with his elbow and shushed her.

"Touché," Cassie continued. "Although, technically, I don't think you're an alien anymore, since Asgard is here now."

The words were barely out of the girl's mouth before Loki asked, "What?"

Peter nodded with sympathetic fervor. "Asgard – er, well, _New_ Asgard – is here, on Earth. It's in Norway." Then, with an apologetic look he added, "The other Asgard kind of got destroyed. Thor said there's, uh, nothing left."

"Yes, that I knew," Loki said quietly. The over-confident swagger had disintegrated and his face looked somber. "I was there for that. Fighting Hela." A beat. Then: "Well, I may have been responsible, somewhat, for Asgard's destruction. After all, it was I who resurrected Surtur and released Ragnarök." He emphatically pointed a finger at the three younger people. "But that was because it was the only choice! Otherwise, my sister would have killed me, and Thor, and everyone else. So, really, I'm the hero in all this."

Then, Loki shook a few stray strands of dark hair from his face and the mischievous look returned, all hints of vulnerability securely dammed away in his mind. He clapped his hands together. "You say Thor has decided to repopulate our people here, on Midgard?"

"Yeah," Cassie answered. "It was kind of the only option, since the Snap and everything was still so fresh. Then, even after the Battle for Earth, I guess everybody decided it'd be best to just stay here."

A questioning look crossed Loki's face. "Sorry, what is this 'snap' you keep mentioning?" Suddenly, he scrunched up his nose. "Is that one of those Midgardian diseases?"

"No, that's the clap," Peter replied without thinking. Then he slammed his hand over his mouth and looked at Morgan with his eyes wide. He leaned toward her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Don't tell your mom I said that. In fact, forget all about it. You didn't hear anything."

Morgan only rolled her eyes. Cassie did the same, sighing heavily from Peter's other side. To Loki, she said, "You're telling us you don't know about the Snap?"

Loki shrugged and looked at them expectantly.

"The Blip?" Peter tried. "The disappearance? Decimation?"

With a growl of frustration, Loki said, "No, I've no idea what you're talking about." Then, in a calmer tone, he requested, "Please, kindly explain and free me from this senseless babble."

Morgan stepped forward, leaning on one of the office chairs in the conference room. "The Snap's when everybody disappeared. Because of Thanos."

Loki's entire body tensed at the sound of the Mad Titan's name. He stared straight ahead, with a fiery glint in his cool blue-green eyes. Then, just as quickly, he regained his composure. He rolled his shoulders, until he heard a satisfying pop. And then he abruptly changed the subject.

Looking to Peter, he asked, "You said you're an Avenger?" When Peter nodded, Loki leaned forward, grasping the back of an office chair, almost matching Morgan's stance. He stared at the young man pointedly. "So. . . Who are you?"

"My name's Peter Parker." He smiled widely. Loki just kept staring in Peter's eyes, though – in a way that made the mortal wonder if telepathy was one of Loki's many talents and he was busy reading Peter's mind. That wouldn't surprise him one bit, actually. But the idea made Peter feel a bit too exposed, so he tried to force his thoughts to quiet down, just in case.

"I mean," Loki finally said, still not breaking his stare, "what do you _do_?"

"Oh! Uh, well, I'm Spiderman. Hence, the webs." Pete dipped his head down toward the discarded webbing on the floor near Loki's boots. Loki rounded his mouth in a silent 'oh.' Then, Peter's relaxed look suddenly turned into one of panic and he started rambling: "Um, the whole 'I'm Spiderman' thing? That's kind of a secret. Like, it's a secret identity. I mean, people don't really know about it. Well, they did at one point because it kind of got out, and it wasn't supposed to, and that was a whole issue that we had to deal with but we figured it out and it's all good now. I just _really_ don't want a repeat of that. So if you could maybe not say anything about me being Spiderman, that would be, um, great. Like, really great." Peter held his hands together in a prayer fashion. "Please, Mr. Loki?"

Loki stared at Peter blankly. After a brief pause, he nodded glibly and waved a hand in a half-hearted acknowledgment of the boy's request. Then he turned his attention to Cassie. "And you would be?"

"Cassie Lang," she answered matter-of-factly, donning her standard pose with her hands on her hips. "My dad's Scott Lang. Y'know, Ant-Man?"

"Ant-Man?" Loki asked dubiously.

"Yup," Cassie answered, popping the 'p' sound loudly.

"Tell me," Loki began, still looking at the trio with incredulity. "When did arachnids and insects become the thème de jour?"

"That's not all – her step-mom's The Wasp!" Morgan piped up, pointing excitedly at Cassie.

Loki stepped forward, crouching directly in front of Morgan. His leather armor creaked slightly as he planted one knee on the floor and rested his elbow on the other. "And who did you say you were, again?"

"I didn't tell you yet," Morgan retorted with a smug smile.

The Trickster couldn't help but smile back at the girl's cheekiness. "Well, why don't you tell me now?"

"I'm Morgan," she answered sweetly.

"And your surname?"

When Morgan didn't answer right away, Peter nudged her gently with his elbow. He tilted down at an angle to whisper in her ear. "That means he wants to know your last name, Kid."

Morgan snapped her head up to Peter, giving him a stern glare. "I _know_ that, Pete!" She growled. "I was pausing for dramatic effect." Then, with a soft exhalation, she turned back to face Loki. She swiped at a strand of brown hair, tucking it behind her ear, before proudly proclaiming: "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Morgan H. Stark."

Looking a bit taken aback, Loki stood to his full height and let out a huff. He wrinkled his forehead, thinking. "Stark? As in, Anthony Stark?"

"Tony, yeah," Morgan clarified. "He was my dad."

" _Was_?" Loki asked dejectedly.

Cassie and Peter exchanged glances, searching for words. But Morgan didn't miss a beat. She merely nodded and, without breaking eye contact with the god, told him, "Yeah. He died saving everybody from Thanos. The war ended, but my dad. . . well, he didn't make it."

A disbelieving laugh escaped the Trickster, surprising everyone. Loki shook his head fervently. "Are we talking about the same Tony Stark?"

"I. . . think so?" Morgan replied, confused.

"Tony Stark, of Stark Industries? The Man of Iron? _That_ Tony Stark?" Loki asked fervidly.

"Iron-Man, yes. Tony Stark – the one and only," was Morgan's answer.

Loki's skeptical expression softened. His voice came out in an almost-whisper, like a haunting refrain: "He's dead?"

Morgan bit her bottom lip and nodded. In a somber voice, the God of Mischief continued speaking, almost to himself. " Even though he was a mortal human, Tony Stark seemed to believe himself to be invincible. And he said it with such conviction that I suppose everyone else believed it, too."

Suddenly, Morgan lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Loki's waist. She looked especially tiny compared to the long-legged Æsir in his heavy Asgardian leathers.

"Uh. What—what's happening?" Loki asked, holding his arms up in the air and staring down at the top of Morgan's head.

Peter cleared his throat and Morgan released Loki. She stepped back, looking up at him with her amber eyes wide and innocent. "Thank you," she told the dark-haired man.

"For what?" Loki asked.

"For what you just said, about my dad," the girl answered. "That was. . . Beautiful."

Loki stared down at the girl, unblinking. Of the Midgardians he had encountered, how odd that this child was proving to be the most peculiar. And quickly becoming the most fascinating. Then again, she was the Tin-Man's daughter so intrepidness and curiosity likely came as naturally to her as breathing.

Cassie took a half-step forward. "We can take you to our leader now, if you still want that."

"Yes," Loki replied, his voice distant and his gaze still fixed on Morgan. The girl gave him a sad little smile and Loki shook his head, focusing on Cassie with a sharp inhale. In a lighter tone that was obviously forced, the Asgardian pushed onward. "Let's do that. Where is the good Captain?"

Peter's eyes brightened a little. "Oh, you know Marvel?"

Now, Loki frowned. "No," he drawled. "I mean the soldier."

Cassie puckered her lips, looking annoyed. "Carol _is_ a soldier. She's a captain, and a pilot."

Loki put his hands up, placatingly. "I'm quite certain humans cannot change form or gender at will, so we are certainly not talking about the same person. Unless the Captain has made some very major lifestyle changes, but he hardly seems the type."

"Wait, you said soldier. As in, Winter Soldier? Do you mean Bucky?" Morgan asked excitedly.

"No, he doesn't, Morgan," Peter told her. Then he looked at Loki. "You don't mean Sergeant Barnes, do you?"

There was no need for a response – the condescension on Loki's face said it all. He groaned and imploringly said, " _America_. Captain America."

"Ohhhhhhhhh," Morgan said. "You mean Sam!"

Loki's hand flew up and he stood perfectly still and silent, face-palming for a good 30 seconds before finally letting out a muffled, defeated-sounding, "No." Then, lowering his hand, he tried again. "I am talking about the darling of the Avengers, Captain Steve Rogers."

The three younglings fell silent again. They all looked to the floor. Cassie chewed on the inside of her cheek and Peter fumbled with his hands.

Cassie sucked in a breath and cautiously began to speak. "See, Steve isn't really an Avenger anymore. . ."

"He perished?" Loki asked, shocked.

"No!" Peter was quick to clarify. "He just, uh, retired."

Morgan couldn't hold back a small laugh. "And he got _really_ old."

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. "I've lived for over a thousand years. Do you think me 'really' old?"

The girl's jaw dropped. She shook her head in the negative. The god grinned, mischievously of course. Then, he looked back at the older two and his eyes sobered. "Who remains, then, of the founding members of the Avengers?"

Peter ran through a checklist in his mind. Finally, he said, "Well, there's Director Fury, Thor. . . uh, Dr. Banner, and Mr. Barton."

Loki's eyes darkened. "Agent Romanoff?"

Morgan and Cassie both frowned. Loki caught on immediately. "Oh, my," was all he said. Dejectedly, he dropped into the chair directly behind him.

Peter attempted to offer a silver lining. "But hey, Thor's okay! I mean, like we said, he's in New Asgard. He's actually on his way here! I mean, he's not here yet but he should arrive tomorrow."

Loki didn't answer. Cassie turned to Peter, registering the change in the air and realizing that a more official approach might be appropriate. "How about you and Morgan wait here with him, and I will go get. . . someone?" She shook her head, slightly flustered.

Peter looked away from Loki, who was splayed out in the chair with his head tilted back, staring intently at the ceiling. Quietly, Peter replied: "Yeah, go find Sam. Or Pepper. Or," he paused to think before sighing and saying, "anyone, really. Everyone. I don't know."

Cassie gave a curt, purposeful nod. Then, without another word, she turned and raced out the door, disappearing into the hallway.

"Guess we're gonna wait here for a bit." Peter sat down in the chair next to Loki, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. He gestured for Morgan to sit by him.

With a devious glint in her eyes, she grabbed the chair Pete had indicated, but then wheeled it around so it was directly in front of Loki, and plopped down.

Peter sighed in defeat and laid his head on the table, mumbling, "Just one normal, boring summer. Is that really so much to ask?"

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

A few minutes passed, with the only noise coming from Morgan swiveling her chair. She watched Loki the whole time. There was a heaviness in his eyes now, which hinted at the thousand years he had apparently lived. Morgan decided a distraction might be in order. "Sooooooooooo," she droned, trying to sound casual.

Loki tilted his head down, finally losing interest in the ceiling and focusing on the little girl. "Yes?"

"Your knives—"

"Daggers," Loki corrected.

Morgan nodded, making a mental note about the correct wording. "Right. Your daggers – where did they go?"

Loki wrinkled his forehead and gave the child a confused look. Then, seeming to understand her question, he leaned forward. Morgan did the same, as if the two were about to share a secret.

"Are you familiar with pocket dimensions?" Loki asked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No. . ." Morgan answered, intrigued and shaking her head fervently.

A full smile broke out on the Trickster's face and there was a slight twinkle in his eye. He held up his hands, like a magician would. Then he made a movement that was almost imperceptible. In the next instant, he was clutching a shiny, embellished silver dagger in each hand. Morgan's golden-brown eyes were wide with wonderment. The Asgardian twirled the weapons skillfully and then, in another rapid motion, concealed them once again. Morgan's big eyes got even bigger.

"How! Where!" The girl exclaimed, more like demands than questions. Now, even Peter was sitting upright with full attention on Loki.

"I keep them in my pocket dimension," Loki began explaining. "So, whenever I need them—" his voice trailed off as he flicked his wrist, with a showman's flourish, once again producing one of the daggers.

"Whoa." Morgan sighed, leaning back in her chair in utter amazement. She shook her head. "I gotta figure out this pocket thing." Then she looked at Peter. "Do you know how handy that would be?!"

Pete couldn't really argue, so he just nodded and smiled, reaching over to tousle the girl's hair. She giggled and leaned forward again. "What else can you do?"

Loki raised an eyebrow, obviously accepting the question as a challenge. Then, he disappeared. Morgan jumped to her feet, spinning to look around the room. She let out a gleeful squeal when a hand rested on her shoulder and she looked up to see Loki standing beside her.

Peter let out a yelp as he saw another Loki at the other end of the room. Morgan wheeled around, to see what Peter was looking at and gasped audibly. Both of them fell completely silent as two other Lokis appeared throughout the room, that self-righteous smirk plastered on their faces. Finally, they all disappeared, except for the one at Morgan's side.

"That. Was. Amazing!" Morgan cried, jumping up and down. Loki regarded her carefully before giving her a wide smile. The girl fell back into her chair, pulling her legs up underneath her but still vibrating with energy. "You have to tell me _everything._ "

Loki laughed. "That could take a while," he admitted.

"Okay, maybe not everything-everything. Start with magic."

"Seiðr," Loki corrected, as he had about his daggers.

"Cider?" Morgan asked.

Chuckling softly, Loki shook his head. "No, seiðr." He enunciated this time. "It's an ancient form of what you call magic."

"Wait, so is it not magic?" Peter piped up.

"It's still magic." Loki explained, tucking his hair behind his ear. He tried to think of a way to explain so that the humans could understand. "Think of it like a branch of science. In fact, humans _could_ access such abilities. Theoretically, anyway."

Morgan raised her hand, but didn't wait for permission to speak. "Like Dr. Strange?"

Peter could swear he saw Loki's cheeks flush at the mention of the Sorcerer Supreme. But the god merely nodded. "In a sense. But he practices Mystic Arts, which is different from seiðr."

"So, how would humans harness these. . . abilities?" Peter asked, the scientist in him fully awakened.

Loki shrugged. "You're close already, with your physics and quantum mechanics. In some ways, you've already unlocked qualities and concepts of magic – apparently, stumbling into discoveries that even your brightest minds didn't fully grasp."

Peter shot out of his chair. "Wait. Like what?"

"Well," Loki paused, thinking. He glanced down at Morgan, a solemn yet almost proud look flickering across his face. "Like Anthony Stark's arc reactor."

"What!" Morgan all but shrieked as she also jumped to her feet.

"The device that powered your father's heart, and his Iron-Man technology, was highly advanced."

Morgan cocked her head to the side, raising an eyebrow, with a look that clearly said, ' _Well, duh_.' Loki rolled his eyes teasingly, and continued. "I'm not sure he ever noticed, but his technology mimicked that of the Tessaract, which paired with the Space Stone. Stark, as well as others such as Dr. Selvig or Jane Foster, all demonstrated the potential to tap into power similar to the Infinity Stones and, ultimately, magic."

The Trickster's voice had a new lilt to it, becoming more easygoing and animated. Peter was deeply interested in what was being said, but also couldn't deny the pang in his heart as he remembered how Mr. Stark's voice sounded similar sometimes, when he talked about science. Or engineering. Or music. Or anything that truly excited him, really. The sense of grief was eased by the overjoyed look on Morgan's face, as she took in everything Loki was saying. Pete knew the girl-genius well enough to know that she understood everything and was likely already extrapolating and running schematics in her mind, prepping for future research.

"See," Loki continued, "Magic is primarily about two things: Source, and skill. So, humans may not have been able to actually access seiðr itself. But, essentially, they could have been developing their own source and drawing from that. Such power would have increased exponentially, eventually becoming self-sustaining."

Silence fell in the room. Finally, Morgan let out a shaky breath. "So, you're saying. . . my dad was _accidentally_ using his own type of magic?"

Loki opened his mouth to answer but stopped suddenly, letting his next words die on his tongue. He froze, focusing his eyes on the doorway. At the exact same time, he and Peter both said, "Someone's coming."

Morgan raised her eyebrows. "Do you have Spidey senses, too, Loki?"

Loki glanced down, considering himself with a frown. There was a flash of green, followed by glittering gold light that flickered up and down his body. His leather armor faded away, replaced by a less formal - and far more Midgardian-styled - pair of black dress pants and a classy solid dark green long-sleeved shirt.

"Holy shit!" Morgan exclaimed.

"Morgan!" Pepper scolded as she walked in the room.

Morgan jumped slightly, turning to the woman. "Oh, hi, Mom. . ."

At the girl's greeting, Loki looked at the strawberry-blonde with intense interest. Pepper smiled hesitantly before she was joined in the doorway by several other Avengers. Sam pushed his way into the room, with Cassie slipping in beside him and her father close behind her. Looking Loki up and down, the leader started speaking: "So, you're actually alive. That's—" He was cut off when someone shoved past him.

"Loki?" Bruce asked, panting from having run down the hall.

"Hi, Bruce." Loki's voice was low, soft almost, and he offered a surprisingly gentle, sincere smile.

Bruce burst out laughing and threw himself forward, engulfing the taller man in a hug. Loki froze, looking stunned and extremely uncomfortable, before finally raising one arm and patting Bruce on the back.

The rest of those assembled maneuvered their way into the conference room. Clint pulled up the rear and stood in the doorway. He let out a loud groan. "Are they _hugging_? Bruce, don't hug him! He'll mind-meld you!"

With that, Bruce pulled away, a huge grin still on his face. He looked up at Loki, his deep brown eyes full of renewed hope. "It's _really_ good to see you."

"And you, as well." Loki admitted, surprising even himself to find that the words were true. The Trickster frowned as he looked at Bruce's arm, and then glanced around the room – the gesture said more about the faces that were missing, and the time that had passed, than words ever could. Finally, he focused back on his friend. "You have lost so much. . ."

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand. "We have," he agreed. "But we've gained some, too. And now you're back!" He grasped Loki's arms, just below his shoulders, holding him and staring at him with wonder. He laughed softly before turning back to the group. "I know you guys may not believe this, but Loki's actually cool." He was speaking to everyone, but focused his gaze on Clint.

"He tried to take over the planet!" Clint shouted, waving his arms exaggeratedly.

Loki looked around the room at the many faces. Some were vaguely familiar, mainly from news reports or snippets he had gleaned from Thor. For the most part, though, he couldn't really say he _knew_ them. He sighed deeply. "I do not deny my sins of the past. And for the crimes I have committed against Midgard, I truly apologize." He looked over Bruce's head, to the archer. "In particular, I am sorry for what I did to you, Agent Barton. It is no excuse, but believe me when I say that my actions were not entirely my own."

Clint grumbled a half-hearted "yeah, yeah" as he stalked into the room, settling into one of the office chairs with his arms folded across his chest.

Sam sighed. "Maybe we should have a formal discussion, see if we can figure things out."

Morgan let out an annoyed huff. "I know what that means: No kids allowed." She tugged on the straps of her backpack, repositioning it. The objects clattered and she paused for the briefest of moments, listening for breakage, before stomping toward the door.

Cassie put an arm out, effectively clothes-lining the girl and bringing her to a halt. She looked to Scott. "And let me guess: Avengers only, right?"

"Sorry, Cass." Scott gave her an apologetic look. But his daughter only nodded, patting her father's cheek playfully. Then, she grabbed Morgan by the shoulders and steered her out the door.

"Bye, Loki!" Morgan squeaked over her shoulder before the two disappeared into the hall.

Sam looked at Peter pointedly. Immediately, Pete narrowed his eyes. "Oh, no. You're not freezing me out. I'm an Avenger! I should be here."

Sam let out a small groan. "Pete, please don't. I can't handle this right now."

"I'm a member of this team, right?"

"Of course you are," Sam replied. His exasperated tone signified that he'd had already had this discussion one too many times.

"Then I have a right to be here! You can't keep me on the outside of important stuff all the time, but then tell me I'm a teammate like everybody else."

Peter was staring at Sam expectantly. Nobody said anything, but Sam reached out to place a placating hand on Pete's shoulder. The young man shrugged the hand away, dropped his eyes to the ground, and wordlessly walked out. Bucky watched him leave, shaking his head softly, then shut the door behind him.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Inside the room, Loki stood next to Bruce, who was still grinning. He had his hands in his pockets and was leaning, shoulder to bicep, against the god. Sam and Pepper settled near the door, looking equally authoritative. The others – Wanda, Bucky, Rocket, Scott, Hope, and Groot – either stood or leaned against the long conference table in the center of the room. Clint remained slouched in a chair, glaring up at Loki. Finally, he was the one who broke the silence. "Why aren't you dead?" His voice was low and full of venom.

"To be fair, I _was_ dead. But I wasn't overly fond of it."

"What are you doing here?" Wanda asked, cocking her head to the side.

"I was hoping to find my dear brother. But the Tiny Tin One," he gestured toward the door, indicating Morgan, "and her friends tell me I'm a day early."

"So, you don't have any plots? No plans for murdering or maiming or. . . world domination?" Pepper asked cautiously.

Loki grinned. "Not yet."

Bruce laughed loudly, slightly forced. "He's joking! He, uh, well, he jokes." Patting Loki on the back, the man continued chuckling to himself. "You guys, man, you just don't know: Loki is really funny. We have had some doozies together." He suddenly turned to Loki, looking excited. "Hey, we should tell them about our plan in Sakaar. You know, with the Devil's Anus?"

Rocket coughed. "What!?"

Loki chuckled nervously. "Perhaps another time, Dr. Banner."

Wanda stepped forward to interrupt, hopefully to steer away from the awkwardness. However, the glint in her eyes told Loki that she had every intention of asking about the Devil's Anus story later. "You're reformed then, yes?" She queried.

"Indeed I am, Little Witch," Loki replied.

Then Sam spoke up, looking to Bruce: "And you'll vouch for him?"

Bruce nodded emphatically. "I was there, in Sakaar, and on Asgard, and. . ." his voice trailed off and he swallowed hard. "And on board _The Statesman_ – yes, I vouch for Loki. And so will Thor and Valkyrie."

Scott grabbed the back of a chair and leaned forward to rest his weight on it, only to discover it had a broken wheel and the whole chair rolled out from under him. He stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding hitting the ground only because Groot caught him. Scott straightened up and laughed uncomfortably. "Thanks," he told the tree. Then to Loki, but without making eye contact after the embarrassing scene he had just made, he said, "Sorry. Uh, so, what exactly—heh. I mean, what's your plan here then?"

"The plan," Loki began, "is for me to reunite with my brother and our people. If they will have me."

"Uh-huh." Scott nodded absentmindedly.

Loki smiled at the man as recognition flashed through his mind, recalling the earlier interaction between him and Cassie. "I assure you, I mean no harm to anyone, Ant-Man."

And just like that, Scott's face lit up. "Wait. You know who I am? "

Loki offered a mischievous grin. "I've. . . heard of you."

"Really? Wow, that's—that's awesome!" Scott sounded absolutely giddy. Sam cleared his throat and Scott made a concerted effort to pull himself together. "Ah, yeah, sorry. I'll, uh, just be over here." He sat on the table next to Hope, but couldn't wipe the goofy grin off his face.

"Look," Sam announced, "we'd like to let bygones be bygones and believe you. Really. But you've gotta understand where we're coming from here." Sam tried to be diplomatic. "Can you give us _anything_ – like, where you've been?"

The Trickster looked pensive. Finally, he sighed and spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully: "I've been a prisoner of war for seven years. That's all you need to know, and the only details I will provide at this time."

Clint sneered. "Uh, seriously? You want us to give you a shot here? We need the full story."

"This story," Loki said through gritted teeth, "is not the kind that bears repeating. Nor can most people bear to hear it, Hawkeye." He ground out the archer's title with venom in his voice.

Clint stood up. "That's it – I'm getting' my crossbow." He took a step toward the door, but Bucky placed a silver hand on his chest and gave him a stern look.

The Winter Soldier kept his hand on Clint, holding him at bay, but turned his head to meet eyes with the Asgardian. "POW, huh?" Loki hesitated, but then nodded once his Allspeak allowed him to register what the letters stood for. Bucky gave him a solemn nod, then flicked his gaze to Sam. In a hushed voice, he said: "He's solid. Take it from someone who knows torture." Then, louder and addressing everyone, he said, "I vote for Loki to stay at the compound, at least until Thor arrives tomorrow."

"Come on!" Clint exclaimed, hitting Bucky's wrist to get his hand off him. Barton immediately regretted the move, since he had chosen to smack Buck's vibranium arm. He winced and shook out his now-throbbing hand. After a moment, he recovered and looked to the group. "You guys aren't seriously falling for Loki's BS? He did a full Jedi mind-trick on me. He led an alien army into New York. I repeat: He tried to take over our damn planet!"

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. He kept his eyes downcast as he added: "And I killed Howard and Maria Stark." With a flick of his hair, he locked eyes with Clint. "So, why the hell am _I_ here?"

Clint opened and closed his mouth, fish-like, but ultimately couldn't come up with a response. Desperate to escape Bucky's haunted eyes, he all but fell back into his chair, effectively giving up.

"So, like I said," Bucky repeated, loudly. "I move for Loki to stay here, as a guest."

Wanda raised a hand. "I second."

Sam looked to Pepper and, receiving no disagreement, shrugged. "All those in favor?" Sam asked.

Everyone but Clint enthusiastically voiced their agreement. Pepper flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Okay, I guess the motion passes. Welcome to the Avengers Compound, Loki. Thor and everybody else will be here tomorrow, so we'll reconvene at that time to discuss long-term plans." She offered a gentle smile before turning to Bruce. "Will you show our guest where he can stay?"

"Sure," Bruce answered.

With that, Pepper turned and walked out with Sam. Clint jumped up and rushed after them, starting to argue his case.

"You can call me Bucky – everyone else does," Bucky said as he reached out his metal arm. Loki glanced at it with intrigue, before finally shaking his hand. "Welcome to the shit-show!" He laughed before heading out of the conference room.

Bruce continued the introductions: "Apparently, you already know about Scott Lang, Ant-Man. And that's Hope Van Dyne, aka The Wasp."

Scott and Hope waved in tandem, which Loki reciprocated with a polite nod.

Wanda pushed herself off the table she had leaned against and approached, smiling up at the god. "It would seem you know me already, as well?"

"The Scarlet Witch – your reputation precedes you." Loki offered a princely bow.

"You can just call me Wanda," the Sokovian told him with a blush.

"All right, all right," Rocket interjected as he stood on the table. He walked across it, stopping when he was next to Loki. He jammed a thumb – or what was equivalent to a thumb for a raccoon – towards himself and puffed his chest out. "The name's Rocket. And Thor happens to be one of my best friends."

Loki gave the racoon a once-over. "Well, I must say, you're a great improvement from Thor's prior taste in friends."

Rocket gave a toothy smile, his canines glistening under the fluorescent lights of the meeting room. "So, you and Thor are brothers?" After Loki nodded, Rocket glanced up and down before shaking his head. "You don't look like him."

"I'm adopted," Loki replied dryly.

Suddenly, Rocket leapt to the ground, landing directly in front of Loki. He leaned forward, sniffing the air fiercely. Loki's eyes widened and he took a step back, putting distance between himself and the rodent. Rocket reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass that was vaguely reminiscent of a monocle. He held it up to his eye as he scanned up and down Loki's body.

Placing the glass relic back in his pocket, Rocket clambered up to stand on a chair. His eyes twinkled as he regarded Loki, almost hungrily. "You got magic?"

"Loads." Loki smirked.

The raccoon sat down, letting his feet swing over the edge of the chair. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Where do you draw from?"

Loki made a _tsk_ sound and wagged a finger in the air. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Rocket slapped his knee and threw his head back with a laugh. He pointed at the Trickster. "I'm gonna find out." Then, he looked to Bruce, nodding. "You're right, this one's okay."

Hope rolled her eyes. "You're only saying that because you wanna steal magic from him for your weird batteries."

"Nah, that's not it at all!" Rocket replied, sounding insulted. But it wasn't at all convincing.

Loki stepped around Wanda, stopping in front of Groot. The two were almost the same height, with Groot just a few inches taller – ever since his growth spurt the year before. With a sharp inhale that almost sounded nervous, Loki addressed him: "I know of your ancestors, on Planet X. They were very wise beings. It is. . . an honor, to be in the presence of one such as yourself." His voice sounded reverent.

Groot smiled in reply. "I am Groot." ( _'It's a pleasure to meet you, your Highness.'_ )

"Oh, I assure you, the pleasure is entirely mine." Loki sounded every bit the Prince he had been raised as in Asgard.

Rocket held his hands up in a time-out gesture as he forced himself between the two. He looked up at Loki. "You speak Groot?"

"Flora Colossus? Yes, of course," Loki answered.

A curious look flashed in Groot's eyes. "I am Groot?" ( _'You. . . are not truly of Asgard. Utgard, am I right?'_ ) He questioned, tilting his head to the side.

Loki looked surprised, but impressed. "You're perceptive."

Hovering his hand just over the top of Loki's head, Groot smiled as he added: "I am Groot." ( _'Small, for a Frost Giant.'_ )

"Well," Loki said with a soft chuckle. "I am a runt."

Groot nodded in understanding. Rocket looked back and forth between the two before finally settling his gaze on Groot. "Hang on. What do you mean, he's a Frost Giant?"

"I am Groot," ( _'Adopted. Jötunn,'_ ) was Groot's noncommittal reply, shrugging.

Rocket wheeled around and stared up at Loki. His lip curled up into a devious grin. "Ooh, I'm gonna have so much fun peelin' back the layers on you."

Loki raised an eyebrow but then relaxed when Bruce grabbed his shoulders again, rescuing him from the raccoon. "Sorry to interrupt, but what do ya say we go find a room for you?" Bruce headed out into the hallway, flanked by the rest of the group.

"Well, we'd love to stay, but we have our own room to get in order," Hope announced. She waved goodbye and started away.

Scott hesitated, lingering at Loki's side. He heard Hope clear her throat and looked over to see her waiting for him, with her hands on her hips. "So _that's_ where Cassie learned it," Scott murmured. He started walking backwards down the hall, pointing at Loki with enthusiasm. "We should talk. Maybe we can hang out. I can see it now—" he stopped, holding his hands up in the air, marquee-style, "—Ant-Man and Loki!" Then with a laugh, he grabbed Hope's hand and they rounded the corner, out of sight.

"You joining the welcome wagon, Wanda?" Bruce asked.

"No, thank you, though. I'll catch up with all of you later." She reached out and grabbed Loki's hand, squeezing it. "I really am glad you're safe, and that you're here."

Loki squeezed back, glancing down at their hands with wide eyes. "You're quite powerful," he whispered, more to himself than to Wanda. Then he released her hand and nodded. "Until later, Scarlet Witch."

Wanda chuckled and left them. Before Bruce could get the tour started, Rocket took charge. "And, we're moving. . ." The furry creature started pushing against Loki's legs, trying to make him move. He shoved for a bit, making absolutely no progress. Finally, he gave one final push before slipping down to his knees at Loki's feet.

Loki sighed and tilted his head down to look at the beast on the floor. "Are you quite done?"

Rocket looked up, panting. "What the hell do you eat?" He pulled himself back to his feet and stared incredulously at the god. "You look like a twig—no offense, Groot—but tryin' to move you is like tryin' ta push the _Benatar_ out of the hangar."

Bruce rolled his eyes and tugged Loki's sleeve, leading him down the hall. Groot leaned down and let Rocket climb up his limb, to sit on his shoulder as they walked.

Groot glanced over and noticed the greedy grin on Rocket's face. "I am Groot?" ( _'What are you plotting?'_ ) The sentient tree asked suspiciously.

"Nothing!" Rocket snarled defensively. "I'm interested, that's all. I mean, it's not every day you meet a Frost Giant, who looks like an Asgardian, who apparently came back from the dead, and has magic radiating off him by the butt-load!"

"I am Groot." ( _'You shouldn't borrow trouble'_ ) Groot admonished his friend quietly, shaking his head.

"Eh, who asked you anyway?" Rocket waved his paw dismissively. "Just, keep walkin'." And so they followed Bruce and Loki along to the housing section of the compound, seeking the perfect place for Loki's private quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Anybody have suggestions, things you'd like to see, wanna guess what might happen? - Leave kudos & comments so I know what you think!  
> Also: Huuuuuuge shout-out to my writing friend, Micki, for beta-ing chapter 1, and chapter 2, and for continuing to brainstorm with me throughout this endeavor.


	3. A Rocky Balboa-style montage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spiderman’s not the only one with a secret identity; There’s some ominous foreshadowing; Pepper bonds with Nebula; Sam’s leadership skills are tested; & the Cloak of Levitation is the world’s greatest wingman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the fabulous reviews. I legit just sit and read them with a stupid smile on my face and it makes life a little more livable (insight into the blackness of my soul).
> 
> This chapter took on a mind of its own. Like, legit, Idek guys. Ended up making this one a lot longer than intended. So I had to split things up! Therefore, I may have promised some of you about things that would happen & they aren’t in here. They will be! Just later than originally planned. Bc that’s what happens when your characters decide they wanna be grown-ups and make their own rules. And I tried telling them, “NOT WHILE YOU’RE LIVING UNDER MY ROOF!” To which they all just laughed & did whatever they wanted, anyway. :P

Cassie hated that she was walking away from the conference room where interesting things were happening. Typical.

Following Morgan, they approached the main lobby of the compound. It was a wide open space, with plenty of large windows to let the light in. There was a seating area off-center, with several chairs and couches arranged for a group to sit and chat. Perhaps it was an attempt to make it feel more welcoming, but Cassie always felt like it was the entryway of a corporate office building. She almost expected to find a directory listing the names of doctors or law offices. There was this impersonal, almost sterile feel to it – reminding everyone that the company of heroes was, in fact, a company. They were employees, and their specialized trade was saving lives and maintaining order. It wouldn't be a bad gig, really, save for having to answer to the law and the alphabet groups (FBI, CIA, NSA, et cetera). Then, there were other organizations, like SHIELD, its predecessors, and its successors.

Morgan settled into one of the chairs, claiming she needed to check on the items in her backpack. As the girl dug through the bag as sneakily as she could manage, Cassie glanced around the lobby, considering the building, its contents and inhabitants, and the massive expanse of property on which it sat, out in the countryside where things like target practice or accidental lab explosions wouldn't disrupt civilians.

Cassie sighed. Sometimes, she wished she could stay at the compound permanently, instead of just visiting occasionally as a tag-along. But that would mean being an Avenger. And Scott wouldn't even listen to her when she tried to talk about the possibility of helping out, so he definitely wasn't about to let her become a full-fledged superhero.

"Okay, all set!" Morgan announced, zipping up the pack and slinging it over one shoulder.

Cassie was about to respond when she saw a smile spread across Morgan's face. Then, she heard a familiar voice call her name. She turned around and smiled, too. “If it isn’t Ava Starr," Cassie greeted with a wave as her friend walked towards them.

Morgan rushed to Cassie's side. She met Ava with a fist-bump, accompanied by a warm smile from Ava. "Hi, Smarty," Ava told the girl.

"Hi, Ghost," Morgan replied.

Then Ava locked eyes with Cassie and her face turned serious. "We need to talk."

"Well, hello, to you, too." Cassie teased. But Ava's face remained stony. "What is it?"

Ava hesitated, her eyes anxiously flitting around the empty space. She cleared her throat, nodding her head down at Morgan.

"Seriously?" Morgan groaned. "Sheesh. I'm not wanted anywhere!" She threw her hands up and turned to start walking away.

"Morgan!" Cassie called after her.

The little girl stopped, peeking back over her shoulder with a good-natured smile. "It's fine, Cass. I was about to ditch you so I could go to my secret lab, anyway." And then, she skipped away.

"Some 'secret' lab – I know exactly where it is." Cassie rolled her eyes and chuckled. She looked back to Ava, who was still staring at her and looking as serious as ever.

"Come with me." Ava unceremoniously grabbed her friend by the wrist and dragged her down a hallway.

Cassie allowed herself to be dragged along behind Ava for a bit before finally planting her feet and tugging her wrist from the other girl's grasp. "What is your deal?"

Again, Ava glanced around. Cassie groaned. "We're alone. Now, c'mon - spill."

Despite the reassurance of solitude, Ava grabbed Cassie's shoulders and scooted into a small alcove by a closed doorway of an empty meeting room. When she spoke, it was in a harsh whisper: "I thought you said you were gonna cool it."

Cassie blinked a few times, looking wide-eyed and unassuming. She shrugged. "You'll have to give me more than that."

Ava growled in frustration. "You know what I'm talking about!" She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back, a haughty look on her face. Clearly, she was prepared for some grand confession.

Cassie threw her arms out to the side, giving up. "Ava, there's only one thing you could be talking about. But, if that's the case," Cassie paused for confirmation that she was on the right track; Ava's raised eyebrow confirmed that she was. "I don't know what you're mad about, or whatever, because I have been on the lowest of the down-lows."

Ava scoffed disbelievingly. Cassie inhaled sharply. "Look, I agreed to scale it back. And I did!"

"I just spent a very uncomfortable car ride with Hank and Janet that suggests otherwise."

Well. That took Cassie by surprise. She leaned back, narrowing her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean?" Ava's voice was louder now. She sighed. "Hank decided to take inventory of all his work product. He finds it interesting that one of his old prototype suits is unaccounted for, along with several newer materials and supplies."

Cassie looked down, rubbing her toe into the floor. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything," she said slowly. Even as she spoke, though, she knew her words weren't true. And she didn't have to look up to know that Ava agreed. Hesitantly, Cassie lifted her eyes to meet Ava's. "Did he say a suit was actually _missing_?"

"Not specifically, or definitively, no," Ava admitted.

"Okay," Cassie said softly, biting her lip. "Okay, so, then, there's a chance it could turn up."

"But we know that it's not going to. . ."

Cassie rolled her eyes. "But _Hank_ doesn't know that!"

"No, but he will, won't he?" Ava chided.

In attempt to appear calmer than she actually felt, Cassie worked to keep her voice steady. "Hank probably just wanted to do an inventory anyway. It was only a matter of time before someone discovered that one of the suits was gone."

"So, you're just not going to do anything about this? " Ava asked suspiciously.

"There's nothing to do, Ava. And it's not like there's any kind of _proof_ of anything." Cassie let out a breathy laugh. "Shit, we've moved things around so many times – for all Hank knows, a bunch of stuff is misplaced or lost!"

Ava didn't look entirely convinced, but she did seem mollified for the time being. She leaned against the wall and anxiously fidgeted with one of her silver bracelets. Cassie's eyes dropped to it. There was a thick band on each wrist, with silver on the outer edges and clear tubing in the center. As Ava twisted the bangle, the mixture of quantum and Pym particles swirled within it. The atoms looked like tiny pearls, crashing into each other and joining for a split second before separating again. On the under-side of the bracelet, pressed against Ava's skin, was a biometric mechanism. It allowed Ava's excess energy to be absorbed and regulated by the concoction of quantum and Pym particles, acting as a grounding force so that Ava's 'condition' was within her control.

It was Hank and Scott who had developed the idea, enacting it with the help of Bruce. When Shuri caught wind of their work, she insisted on being involved. She was the one who made the breakthrough that allowed the particles to give Ava more substance, making it so that she completely controlled the shifting that the quantum exposure had caused, while also keeping the elements from becoming volatile when combined. They even managed to make it so that it wasn't painful anymore. Eventually, everyone referred to Ava's condition as her "powers" and right then and there, she was inducted as an official Avenger.

"But Hank is suspicious. Which means that something made him suspicious. You really haven't been out doing anything?" Ava asked, stepping back into the main part of the hallway and watching Cassie expectantly.

Cassie looked her friend in the eyes. She didn't want to outright lie. So she chose her words methodically: "I. . . have been very careful."

Ava's eyes widened. "Shite. Cass!"

"What? I told you I'd scale back, not that I'd _stop_ ," Cassie argued. She rolled her eyes and before Ava could corner her in the alcove again, she started walking down the hall. Immediately, Ava was right beside her.

"I thought we only took the suit because the world was short on heroes."

"Right," Cassie agreed. Her ponytail bobbed as she nodded her head while walking. "And then I decided to keep it up because I'm actually good at being a hero."

Ava stopped suddenly. "Cassie." The word came out like a growl.

Cassie halted, turning back to meet the other girl's eyes, which had darkened.

Letting out a breath, Cassie walked back to stand directly in front of Ava. She placed her hands on her friend's shoulders because, despite being younger, Cassie was the taller of the two. "Ghostie," Cassie began, her voice sweet and only somewhat patronizing. "When everyone went missing during the Snap, the world was lost."

"Oh, here we go. . ." Ava groaned. She'd heard this speech before – it was the same one Cassie pulled out any time she wanted to convince Ava to help her with something. Usually, that 'something' involved the Wasp prototype suit they had 'confiscated' during the five years when half the population was missing.

"We took the suit because the world _needed_ heroes. The earth needed defended and we stepped up to the challenge – you with your quantum-shifting, me with the suit that we fixed up. And we made a fantastic team, didn't we?"

Grudgingly, Ava nodded.

Cassie smiled. "And as we've continued upgrading that old suit, we've managed to make it pretty badass. It would be a shame not to use it!" Then, she added: "Besides, the Avengers are still stretched kinda thin. They shouldn't waste their energy on small-time disturbances." Cassie waved her hand dismissively. "So, maybe I do throw the suit on and take out a few miscreants now and again. It's keeping the streets safe and letting the Avengers stay focused on bigger issues. Where's the harm in that?"

Ava chewed on the inside of her cheek. She knew there was no point arguing, but a sly smile spread across her face. "If it's so great," Ava mused. "Then why are you afraid to tell Scott?"

Cassie snickered. "I'm not _afraid_ to tell him." She tilted her chin up defiantly. "I am _choosing_ not to tell him because I don't want him to worry unnecessarily."

Now, Ava snorted. "Yeah, that sounds right." Her voice oozed sarcasm.

"I'm serious!" Cassie tried to sound convincing. "Besides," she continued, "I couldn't exactly call it a 'secret identity' if I didn't keep it secret, could I?"

Ava considered Cassie for a moment. Finally, she gave up. "Just, promise you'll be careful? And tell me when you go out, so I can come with you." Her eyes dropped down for a second before looking back to the younger girl with resolve. "I've learnt the hard way what it's like out there without backup. It's not worth the risk."

Cassie had to agree that Ava had come a long way since her dad first met her years earlier. They exchanged smiles and then Ava side-stepped her friend, continuing down the hall. Cassie spun around and quickly fell in step beside her.

Trying to lighten the mood, Cassie nudged Ava with her elbow. "By the way. . . I came up with a name."

"Oh, yeah?" Ava asked in a neutral tone as they returned to the lobby.

"Yeah," Cassie said. She swerved in front of Ava with a wide grin on her face.

"All right. What is it?" Ava asked, trying to appear disinterested.

Cassie's grin turned into a devious smirk. She leaned forward and proudly gave voice to the moniker she had come up with: "Stinger."

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

The Avengers Compound was laid out, for the most part, like a labyrinth. From the main entry point, there were several hallways that branched off. They all led to the different sections of the facility, which all served distinct purposes.

Of course, there were the residence areas. Primarily, in the southwest part of the compound, was the wing for full-time housing, where the permanent residents had apartments. Bruce's place was first on the "avenue." It was nearest to the stairwell so he could easily come and go to his lab, which was directly upstairs. Then came the Potts-Stark home, where Pepper and Morgan lived. Beside them was Rhodey, so they were directly situated between two friends who could be ready to protect them at a moment's notice. Across from Rhodey, Bucky had a bachelor's pad. His neighbor was Wanda, followed by Sam's apartment across from Bruce. Upstairs from there was, of course, Bruce's primary lab, next door to a large suite that served as a semi-permanent residence for the Guardians of the Galaxy – with multiple rooms and more of a hostel feel to it, since one never quite knew when the Guardians were going to come or how long they would stay.

In the opposite direction, to the southeast, was temporary housing where visitors could stay in hotel-style suites.

There was also the stand-alone studio apartment, dubbed the "Stark Wing," which was separate from the other residences, in the western-most edge of the compound. Morgan had quickly claimed the Stark Wing to use as a clubhouse, workshop, multi-purpose area, etc., and no other additions had been made in that section.

The rest of the compound was a combination of conference/meeting rooms, offices, technical/control rooms, labs, med-bays, armories, kitchens, dining spaces, training areas, rec rooms, and gyms. And, of course, a swimming pool because, why not?

The eastern-most part of the compound had a huge garage and air-craft hangar, for any and all modes of transportation. Automobiles and jets were stored there, along with spare parts. Harley Keener had a small house a few miles away and served as a part-time mechanic, visiting the compound regularly. When he wasn't in the garage, he did tech work – usually modifying or developing weapons and other gadgets.

Next to the hangar was a shooting range where various projectiles were tested. Mostly, that consisted of the Bartons further perfecting archery. There were a times, though, that also involved Rocket playing with some new equipment he found in space – a rocket launcher and laser gun among the most exciting finds. Morgan had also tested out a potato shooter that Harley helped her build for a school science fair – an award-winning potato gun, in fact.

There were several other unattached buildings, for storage, overflow of weapons, or the like.

There was also a barn and stables, complete with a few horses – including two of the three Asgardian Pegasi (the third Pegasus was Valkyrie's personal steed, which remained with her in New Asgard). A corral led to a fenced-in pasture. Beyond that was open countryside leading to a forested area, with a creek nearby. Technically, the Avengers and Stark Industries owned the Compound and the several hundred acres surrounding it, ensuring privacy.

Finally, in the basement of the compound, was a holding area with a handful of cells for anyone who might be taken captive. It had been a precaution, "just in case."

The cells had never been used.

That was about to change.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

With a heavy sigh, Pepper Potts-Stark broke her own rule about maintaining proper posture, sliding down in the office chair at the desk of the control panel. The chair tilted and Pepper bounced her leg, rocking back and forth. The image on the computer screen showed the black-and-white speckled snow-storm that occurred when video feed died out. She'd lost track of how many times she had watched the CCTV footage by now, trying to latch onto _anything_ that might tell her where the person went, exactly what tech he was using, and – most importantly – who the hell he was.

She had come up with zilch.

FRIDAY had been doing her best to help, pouring over every detail of the video together. They focused heavily, of course, on that split-second when the figure glanced toward the camera before taking it out with a repulsor blast (which is what Pepper realized he had done, on her 150th viewing).

Still, even between Pep and the AI, they hadn't accomplished much.

FRIDAY did manage to isolate the energy signature. So she promised that the minute he appeared again, she should be able to determine his location. Then, Sam could deploy a team. FRIDAY would have a lock on the energy, and the person, by that point, meaning that even if the Avengers didn't get to his exact location on time, they'd be able to follow him. At least that felt like some kind of progress. Pepper decided to count it as a win.

She straightened up and gathered her hair into a loose bun, securing it with an elastic tie she had around her wrist. Swiping her bangs from her eyes, she said, "FRIDAY, run another search for any other cameras near this alleyway. There has to be something that can offer a different angle – or something with color, or sound. . ." her voice trailed off.

" _So far, the CCTV footage seems to be the only camera that caught the event. Nothing else is positioned properly, or close enough,"_ FRIDAY explained. She was patient and cordial as always, but Pepper could tell that the AI was frustrated, too.

"Okay. Can you try improving the quality of the video, then?"

FRIDAY was silent for a moment. When she finally spoke, it was reluctantly. " _I'm afraid there isn't much wiggle room with the resolution._ " In response, Pepper groaned. " _I'll see what I can do,_ " FRIDAY offered quickly.

Pepper leaned forward, propping her elbows up on the desk and resting her chin in her hands, hoping for FRIDAY to come up with something.

Behind her, the door to the control room opened with a squeak – the tell-tale sign of hinges in need of some WD-40. Pepper made a mental note to tell Harley about that later.

Pep lazily spun around in the chair, assuming she'd find Sam or Bucky (or both). She gasped softly when she saw that it was Nebula standing near the half-open door. The Luphomoid was standing at an angle, looking like she was trying to decide between coming further in the room or darting back out into the hall.

"Hi!" Pepper exclaimed, standing up and straightening out her dress slacks.

Nebula nodded tersely, her lips pursed tight. After another second of thought, she turned and walked toward Pepper. "Rocket said something about a surveillance video?" Her black eyes flicked down to the computer screen, which showed a freeze frame of the repulsor-wielding figure taking out one of the alleyway assailants. "Is that it?"

"Uh-huh," Pepper answered, her head bobbing up and down.

Nebula regarded the screen for a only moment longer before quickly turning her head to face the other way, like the image offended her. Maybe it had, in some way.

" _Shall I play the footage for you, Nebula?_ " FRIDAY offered.

"No," Nebula replied hurriedly. She clicked her tongue, then looked at Pepper. "Wilson is planning on going after this. . . _person_ , once he is located?"

Pepper nodded. Then she added, "And FRIDAY thinks we're close. As soon as he pops up again, she'll know about it. And when FRIDAY knows, we'll know."

Nebula kept her eyes trained on Pepper, blinking. Finally, she said, "I will be on that team."

"Oh. Okay. I'll, um, I'll let Sam know that you volunteered and are interested—"

But Nebula shook her head, interrupting Pepper's train of thought. "I am not volunteering," she stated. "I _will_ be on that team," the Guardian specified.

"Consider it done," Pepper told her.

Seemingly appeased, Nebula turned and silently stalked toward the door. It was a graceful walk, but also predatory. Despite the fact that practice had drastically improved her social skills and she had even started transitioning her wardrobe to more casual, Earth-wear, there was no mistaking that she was a trained assassin. Anyone who saw her would know immediately that she was not to be trifled with because she could easily kill you with her bare hands. But in recent years, Nebula had learned that just because she _could_ , didn't mean she should, or would, or had to. That was a testament to what a difference time can make in someone's life. And proof of the power of grief and loss – character is forged by fire, after all.

She had just reached the door when Pepper called after her: "You really cared about him."

Nebula came to a sudden halt. She turned and with just a few long strides, she was by Pepper's side again. The Luphomoid focused her attention on the computer monitor, apparently preferring that over eye contact. "I never had friends," she said simply. "Never needed them. Never even knew what a friend was."

As if feeling Pepper's curious gaze, Nebula clarified, "My sister and I tried to be close, but we were ever at odds. Emotions were. . . discouraged."

"What about the Guardians?" Pepper had to ask.

"Well, yes." Nebula smirked, giving the woman a side-eye. "But they're idiots."

Pepper chuckled softly. She could hear the hint of fondness in the other's voice. There was no animosity, as Nebula did care about her fellow space travelers. But the subtext was clear: They were teammates, first and foremost. While she felt a kind of kinship to them, she was talking about something wholly different when she used the word 'friend.'

There was a long pause. Then, Nebula turned ever so slightly to look at Pepper. "I didn't know what it meant to have friends, or to _be_ one," she repeated. "Until Tony Stark showed me."

A lump lodged itself in Pepper's throat and she could feel tears welling in her eyes. She tried to blink them away. The silence stretched between them, filled only with Pepper sniffling.

Nebula raised her arm, letting it hover in the air for a minute. Hesitantly, she reached forward and placed her hand on Pepper's shoulder. She squeezed firmly, comfortingly. Finally, she made eye contact. Pepper wiped at her eyes and then put her own hand over Nebula's, patting it and smiling at her.

"Tony—" she paused, shook her head, then started again, "Tony was my first true friend. For a while, my _only_ friend." Nebula looked down then, as something flashed across her face. It could have been any number of emotions and more than likely was a combination of things. Pepper thought it most closely resembled affection, and sadness. "He was. . . a good man."

"Yes," Pepper agreed.

"He frustrated me," Nebula added.

That made Pepper laugh out loud, with tears still in her eyes. "Yeah, he was really good at that."

Then, Nebula pulled her hand away. Her arms hung at her sides, and she looked down at her own hands as she clenched them into fists. Determination burned in her eyes when she looked back at Pepper. "If someone is using Tony's technology, I am going to find out how they got it. And why."

The intention of the Luphomoid's words were clear: A solemn vow, to defend the life and work and memory of someone she loved. And Pepper gave a single, curt nod in acknowledgment. After which, Nebula turned and headed for the door.

"Nebula?" Pepper inquired stopping her again. She didn't wait for a response. "I hope you know, you still have friends."

"I know," Nebula replied, looking back at the strawberry-blonde. There was a softness on her face unlike Pepper had seen before.

"And if you ever get tired of traveling the galaxies, there would definitely be a place for you here." Pepper tilted her head in thought, considering Nebula's loyalty. "I might even put you to work at Stark Industries," she suggested, her tone playful but still meaning every word.

Nebula's lip quirked up ever-so-slightly at the corner. "I'll keep that in mind."

With that, she slipped out the door and was gone. Pepper sat back down, spun her chair around, and rapped her nails on the desk. She smiled to herself, counting the interaction with Nebula as a major win for the day.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

After the Battle for Earth, the real work began: Rebuilding the world, with a sudden surplus of people and comparatively diminished resources. Plus the challenges of loved ones returning after those who were left behind had moved on, and the many who came back to find that they had nowhere to go – raising unemployment and homelessness to all-time highs on a global scale.

Factor in the loss of three of the world's greatest heroes and how the ones who remained were simply _tired_. Times were not easy on anyone, least of all Sam Wilson. He had been flung into a leadership role with basically no direction or guidance, and limited resources. He also had some very big shoes to fill and several strong personalities to manage. Trying to assemble all the Avengers was difficult enough. The thought of making them an actual team seemed nigh on impossible.

To his credit, Sam didn't give up. He had always been a pretty laid-back, carefree kind of guy – the kind of person who was everybody's friend, someone that you wanted to have fighting beside you in a fight. But he was also someone who took orders rather than gave them. Being the man in charge required a vast amount of growth and character development over a short amount of time. If life were a movie, Sam was certain the events of the last several years would have played out in a Rocky Balboa-style montage – real epic, "eye of the tiger," team bonding, quest-y type shit.

Alas, life is not a movie. So Sam worked hard every day. He trained to be a better fighter, to be able to serve his team best. And he did his best to establish relationships. People like Bucky and Wanda helped, setting an example that he could be trusted. Pepper became like a business partner, taking care of a lot of things Sam never would have even thought about. Plus, Stark Industries continued to fund the Avengers Initiative, which made it possible to even continue.

It was slow-going at first. But after Spiderman's run-in with Mysterio, it was clear that the world still needed all of them – and they needed each other, too. They all rallied together to help Peter with fallout of the Mysterio event. From there, things went smoother. Eventually, everyone fell into a rhythm, and they started working together on missions. Finally, the Avengers dream seemed to have been actualized.

That didn’t mean things were simple though. There were still struggles and disagreements, and they were all in a constant state of tension as they waited for the next Thanos-level threat to rear its ugly head. Until then, they dealt with the smaller issues and practiced working together. And they bonded. Hence, their annual gathering – which was intended to bring them all together as much as it was to commemorate the sacrifices of the ones they'd lost.

Sam had the added struggles of leading. He had gotten better at it. But he still found it tough at times. There were things he didn’t know, including things he didn’t even _know_ he didn’t know. And giving orders was still uncomfortable sometimes – especially when he thought about the people he was commanding: demigods, geniuses, spies, aliens, intergalactic warriors. . . not to mention that most of them were older than him (some of them by centuries).

That’s why Sam hesitated before hitting SEND on the text he had drafted to Dr. Stephen Strange.

He had listened to Clint’s protests about trusting Loki; had discussed with Pepper about giving the benefit of the doubt; saw the look in Bucky’s eyes when it was even _implied_ that Loki had been tortured. . .

Even his own opinion was to give Loki a chance. He _wanted_ to trust him – and sometimes, that could be the most dangerous thing of all. So Sam decided to make the most diplomatic choice: Cautious optimism. He would let Loki stay and would even leave him off a leash, to let him prove himself, hoping for the best. But he would also be prepared for the worst. Of course, FRIDAY knew to keep a close watch on Loki and to report about any questionable behavior. Sam wanted a little more of a proactive stance, though.

So, he had gone back to his apartment and pulled out his phone. He started a new text, to Dr. Strange, typing out: _‘Hey, Strange – I could use your help with something right away. How fast can you get to the compound?’_

He stared at the screen for a moment. With a heavy sigh, he pressed SEND, and he heard the tell-tale _whoosh_ of the message going through.

Within seconds, the phone pinged. Sam read the three-word reply: _‘Be right there.’_

No sooner had Sam set the phone on the counter than he heard a knock on his door. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously before remembering that he was dealing with a fucking wizard who could open inter-dimensional portals and step right through them. So the fact that it took him all but two seconds to travel there actually shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise.

"Hey, Strange," Sam greeted. He swept his arm through the air in a 'come on in' gesture.

The doctor stepped into the room with a polite smile. "Hi," he replied, courteously enough.

Sam led him over to the kitchenette, pulling a bottle and a couple shot glasses out of the mini-bar. "Do you want a drink?" he asked, holding the bottle up.

Strange raised an eyebrow as he sat in one of the bar-stools at the counter. "Do I need one?"

Sam let out a single laugh. Then his smile faded and he took on a more serious attitude, trying to think of how best to word the news he needed to deliver. He threw back the shot and sucked in a sharp breath. Clutching the empty glass to his chest, he said, "Loki's alive."

Surprise flashed across the Sorcerer's face. Then, an odd expression that Sam couldn’t quite place. Strange swallowed hard before asking, “How do you know?”

There was a pause. Sam poured another drink. He picked up the glass and raised it. Before putting it to his mouth, he eyed Strange over the rim. "Because," Sam started. He hesitated, emptied the shot glass, slammed it down on the counter. "He's here."

"That's. . . not possible," the Sorcerer said slowly.

Furrowing his brows in confusion, Sam set his glass in the sink and rested his palms on the counter. "I'm serious – he really is alive."

"No, I believe _that_."

"Then what?" Sam queried.

Strange exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "When you say he's 'here,' you mean—what, exactly?"

With a nod toward the door, Sam said, "Here, in the compound. In the temporary residences."

Strange's eyes widened. He glanced toward the doorway.

After a few moments of silence, Sam cleared his throat. “Did you hear me?” he asked. “Loki’s here—”

"No." Strange’s short reply was harsh and clearly indicated no-nonsense.

"'No?'" Sam repeated, almost mockingly. He felt his professionalism fading, and he kind of wanted to slap the cryptic Sorcerer on the side of the head. "Whatchu mean, no?"

Seeming to try to choose his words carefully, Strange started to explain. "If Loki were here – in this compound or anywhere else on earth – I would have been notified." He narrowed his eyes. "I received no such notice. Ergo, no Loki."

"Well, consider this your notice." Sam leaned farther forward on his palms, face-to-face with the doctor. "I am notifying you right now, Strange. Loki is here – on this planet, in this building, right fucking now."

Suddenly, the doctor stood up. "Bullshit."

Sam straightened up in turn, his hands sliding off the counter and dropping to his sides. "What?" he asked coolly.

Strange side-stepped around the counter and took a step toward the leader, apparently hoping to use his height as an intimidation tactic. He stared down at Sam. "Bull. Shit," he repeated, enunciating the words.

They stared at each other for a minute. Neither spoke. Sam took slow, measured breaths as he matched Strange’s stern gaze. Finally (surprisingly), the Sorcerer Supreme gave in. His lungs deflated as he stepped back with eyes wide again.

"Loki's really here?"

Sam let out an exasperated groan. "That's what I've been saying!"

Unexpectedly, Strange turned away, his Cloak swirling behind him as he did. And he started pacing. He seemed intent on burning a path into Sam’s carpet.

“What’s up, Doc?” Sam asked, unable to restrain himself from the playful words. He leaned back against his fridge, looking expectantly at his guest.

Strange stopped mid-step. He looked over to Sam with a frown. "I have a list—"

"So, you’re Santa Claus?" Sam interrupted, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Strange rolled his eyes but decided to let it go. "The list contains the names of individuals who pose a threat to this realm," he continued. "It is enchanted and updates itself regularly. The moment anyone whose name is on the list starts breathing Earth’s air, I am notified."

"Well, maybe Loki figured out a way to – wow, I can't believe I'm saying this – I dunno, like, hide from the list, or something?" Sam offered.

Strange gave him a look that emphasized how stupid the idea was. "That truly is impossible." He rubbed his chin. The pacing continued. But this time it only lasted a moment. The doctor came to a sudden stop, hitting like a ton of bricks. He started muttering to himself, working through whatever was in his mind: "The only way that— But that can't be, can it? No, certainly not— And yet—"

Sam waved his arm in the air. “Strange. Mind including me in this conversation you’re having with yourself?"

"The only way that the list wouldn't notify me of Loki's presence is if Loki wasn't on the list."

Sam stared at him blankly. "Well, no shit, Sherlock."

Strange’s eyes shot to the ceiling and he groaned. "No, what I mean is – okay , Loki used to be on the list. Near the top, actually." The Sorcerer took a step closer. "None can conceal themselves from the list and its enchantments. But it _is_ possible to be _taken off_ the list."

"Like when we thought he was dead?" Sam questioned, frowning.

"More like, when you stop being a threat," was the answer. Before Sam could respond, Strange started laughing to himself. Thinking out loud again, he mumbled, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it. It’s really very simple. But also. . . complex.” His eyes were wide and appeared to be twinkling with fascination. He sounded intrigued and almost impressed.

“Hold up,” Sam said, leaning away from the fridge and folding his arms across his chest. “Are you—are you trying to tell me that Loki’s actually _not a threat_?” The look on Strange’s face answered for him. "Pfft. No way." Sam scoffed exaggeratedly. "I mean, he told us he wasn't planning anything; and between him and Bruce and everything Thor has said, everyone was pretty convinced that he's changed. But, I mean – c'mon!”

Strange held his hands up. "Make no mistake – he's still Loki. Still incredibly powerful and, I'm sure, a sneaky asshole. But it would seem that he's genuinely lost interest in taking over our world."

“Well, hot damn.” Sam forced a laugh, not totally sure about the appropriate response. But then he decided that things still hadn’t changed, really. Although maybe now he could lean a bit more in Loki’s favor, he still wanted to play things safe. “The situation remains the same: We agreed to let him stay until Thor comes tomorrow. Then we’ll all make a more permanent decision.”

Strange nodded, as if in agreement. But Sam knew he still needed to make his intentions clear. “In the meantime, I want someone to watch him.”

Realization clicked immediately. “Oh, no. . .” Strange started backing up.

"Strange—"

"I'm not a babysitter!" The man exclaimed. "Besides, there are half a dozen of you who live here full-time. Not to mention the fact that everyone else will be here within 24 hours. And I'm sure several have arrived already. Why did you have to call _me_ in special for this?"

"Because Loki is too powerful," Sam stated plainly. That seemed to be enough to shut Strange up long enough for the leader to continue: "If shit does hit the fan, I need someone who can handle it." He rubbed his eyes with his palms. "I need someone who would actually be a match against Loki. That's you."

There was a pause. The Sorcerer opened his mouth to say something else, but Sam beat him to the punch. "It's not really a _request_ , Strange." They locked eyes again and Sam knew that he’d won. Thank goodness for Strange’s sense of duty.

With a groan, the doctor asked, "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Just, watch him. Make sure he stays out of trouble. If he causes trouble, stop him."

Strange looked his friend up and down inquisitively. Finally, he nodded.

"Thanks," Sam said quietly.

Without another word, Dr. Strange left the apartment. Sam sighed. He decided not to let the second shot glass go to waste and poured himself another drink, all too aware that things were far from settled.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Stephen exhaled heavily in the hallway outside Sam’s apartment. He knew he’d had no choice but to oblige when Sam requested his presence. And after hearing about this side-mission, and seeing the seriousness in Sam’s eyes, Stephen knew he had no choice but to acquiesce.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit peeved. He had recently become addicted to a Japanese sushi bar near Bleecker Street, and his take-out order had just arrived. His evening had already been trampled on by the fact that Wong, who was due back from London, said he wouldn't be back until the next morning because he also had to make a quick follow-up trip to the Hong Kong sanctum. So, Stephen had been left with far too much food to eat by himself. Except it was looking like he wouldn't get to eat it. And his friend would likely return just in time for the reunion. Thus, Wong would have to catch him up on news from the sister sanctums later. Meaning it was going to be a working vacation. Just great.

With a sigh, he shook his head and started walking toward the temporary residences. His thoughts were racing as he tried to decide whether he should approach Loki directly or just camp outside his suite. Or maybe it'd be best to just settle into a control room and have FRIDAY give him updates?

Before he could decide on anything, though, Stephen was surprised by the Cloak of Levitation peeling off his shoulders and streaking ahead of him, down the hall and around the corner. The Sorcerer Supreme stared at the empty space for a moment, dumbstruck. Then his senses returned. "Hey!" he called as he ran down the hall.

He turned the corner and saw his Cloak waiting at the end of that hallway. "What was that about?" he asked, slowing down and walking forward. When he was halfway there, the Cloak surged forward, disappearing around another corner.

"Really?!"

Stephen started running again, blindly skidding around the corner. In his haste, he didn't bother to look before making the turn. So, he didn't notice the other person coming down the hallway until it was too late – when they crashed into each other and toppled to the floor.

For a few minutes, Stephen and the other person were nothing but a tangle of limbs, exchanging a mix of expletives followed by half-mumbled apologies. Finally, Stephen managed to somewhat right himself, planting his hands on the floor and holding himself up. He looked at the face of the person beneath him and felt his throat dry up as he gazed into cool blue eyes, wide with shock.

"Strange?" Loki asked.

"Um, yeah. Yes. Hi," Stephen mumbled.

Loki pursed his lips. “Um.” Then, he narrowed his eyes. "Get off of me." The god commanded.

Stephen was quick to oblige. He hoisted himself up and to his feet. He stretched his hand out, ready to help Loki up, only to find himself staring at the Asgardian's boots because he was already standing. Stephen's eyes slowly traveled upward, over long, leather-clad legs – seriously? Who wears _leather pants_ in the summer? – and a silken tunic. He had the same face that Stephen remembered from their meeting before, although he was certain that Loki looked healthier now – his face was brighter, skin softer, his eyes clearer. He even stood straighter, like a weight had been lifted off his lean shoulders.

Stephen was staring. He had to have been staring – what a creep. He felt himself gulp. Why did his throat feel like a desert? He heart hammered against his chest and there was a tightness in his stomach.

Loki tilted his head to the side, blinking in curiosity. His hair flopped as his head moved. It wasn't greased back like usual, but was looser and fuller and—

"Your hair is wet," Stephen announced. Oh shit. He said that out loud. Why? Why did he say it out loud?

The corner of Loki's mouth curled up into a smirk. Those icy eyes twinkled with amusement. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short when the Cloak of Levitation draped itself over his shoulders.

"Hello?" Loki said softly. The Cloak wrapped across Loki's chest, the corner of the fabric caressing his porcelain-esque cheek. He chuckled softly – a musical kind of sound.

"Darling," Stephen said firmly, chastising.

Loki's head snapped up. "Excuse me?"

Stephen wanted to kick himself. He laughed nervously. "Oh, no. Um, the Cloak." He pointed to the garment. Then he cocked his head to the side. "Odd – she doesn't usually take to strangers."

Loki smiled at that. A genuine, far-off smile. "Well, that explains it. We're not strangers." The mischief-maker lifted a hand and patted the Cloak gently. "We've met before. Although, it was quite some time ago and only very briefly. I'm flattered that she remembers."

"You would be difficult to forget," Stephen spoke in a quiet voice. Loki had his face tilted down toward the Cloak, but his eyes flicked up to Stephen's face, regarding the Sorcerer carefully under a curtain of long eyelashes.

"If I didn't know better," Loki began, "I'd think you were trying to charm me."

Stephen didn't say anything to that. He was too distracted by the familiar pull of magic around him. It felt like his own, and yet there was something different, too – almost like a mixture of chemicals reacting to each other and creating a static charge in the air. The tug was magnetic, and Stephen had to fight to keep himself from being pulled in. He purposely took a step back and cleared his throat. The Cloak lifted off Loki's shoulders, fluttering in the air for a moment – _show-off_ – before returning to its master.

"She suits you," Loki told him softly. It almost sounded complimentary. Before Stephen could respond, Loki swiped a hand through his wet hair. "So. I'm not dead. . . As you can see."

"Yes, I heard." Stephen nodded, a bit too enthusiastically. "I'm glad. For you, that is. To not be dead, I mean."

_Pull yourself together, Strange. You're a doctor, for fuck's sake!_

Suspicion flashed across Loki's face. "You already knew I was here." It wasn't posed as a question. So, Stephen chose not to answer it.

Instead, he said: "You know, we didn't _officially_ meet last time."

Loki crossed his arms and made a sour expression. "You mean when you knocked me into a never-ending free-fall for half an hour?"

Stephen blanched. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

They held each other's gaze for a moment. Then Loki shrugged. "I did try to stab you afterward. I suppose that squares us."

Stephen cleared his throat. "In that case, maybe we can start over." He extended his hand. "Dr. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, protector of Earth, Master of the Mystic Arts. And you are?"

Loki rolled his eyes in amusement. But then he decided to play along. He took a deep breath and recited: "Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief, rightful king of Jötunheim, brother of the splendid Thor. . . I’m probably forgetting other titles." They both smiled and then Loki shook Stephen's hand.

The second they touched, that faint static charge in the air seemed to have been turned up to 11. Golden lines of Stephen’s mystic energy swirled their way up Loki’s arm. At the same moment, a surge of green seiðr radiated along Stephen's arm. Stephen’s palm felt hot, but was instantly cooled by Loki’s fingers wrapped around his hand. The green mist of seiðr danced all the way to the Sorcerer’s shoulder, chilling him in the best possible way, like menthol. Fascinated, he watched as his own golden magic slithered up to Loki’s neckline, sparking and licking like a ghostly flame.

Coming to their senses, they ripped their hands apart. Stephen pulled his hand close to his chest, relishing the cool feeling and trying to remember the sensation of Loki’s hand in his. His entire body tingled, but not in a way that was unpleasant; in fact, quite the opposite.

"What in Hel was that?" Loki muttered, still wide-eyed and inspecting his hand like the appendage had never been there before.

Suddenly, it was like Stephen was seeing Loki for the first time. The emerald tunic Loki was wearing fit perfectly, hugging his body in all the right places. And suddenly it didn’t matter whether the leather pants were appropriate for the season, because all Stephen could think was that it had to be downright sinful for pants of any kind to look _that_ good on someone. Past the gracefulness of that lithe body, Stephen trained his eyes on Loki’s flawless face. He had to appreciate the fine lines of Loki’s jaw and cheekbones, the apparent softness of his lips. Looking deep into the god’s eyes was like staring into the ocean – full of wisdom and soul, centuries of the best and worst of life, pools of depth and mystery. . . pools that Stephen found himself desperately wanting to dive into.

"Are you hungry?" The question was out of Strange's mouth before he even realized he was asking.

Loki looked at Stephen. Blinked a few times, regaining composure. He puckered his lips and regarded the Sorcerer carefully. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

Stephen laughed. "Because I was about to sit down to a meal when Sam called me here. I'm still starving, and the food is still waiting. It could easily be reheated, and I have more than enough."

"Are you—" Loki hesitated. His cheeks were tinted with an attractive shade of pink. "Are you asking me to dine with you, Doctor?"

"I guess I am." Then, Strange gave a sly grin. " _Someone_ would be very disappointed if you declined." He inclined his head, subtly gesturing to the Cloak.

Loki snorted. "That's dirty pool." He smirked and took a step forward. With a mock gasp, he accused: "I think you put her up to this. Set this whole thing up.”

"I assure you, I did not." Stephen returned the banter, feigning insult. Then, it was his turn to blush. "It’s not entirely by accident that I’m here, though," he confessed. He cast his eyes downward, in a self-castigating manner. "Sam asked me to spy on you."

"Ah." Loki clicked his tongue. "I figured they'd send someone." His tone was lighter than Strange would have expected, almost sounding proud of himself for having been right.

Then, the mage sighed and gave an exaggerated wave of his hand. "I suppose I do have to eat."

Stephen looked up, eyes of steel meeting eyes like ice. He couldn't help himself from smiling. Then, without so much as a thought, his Sling Ring conjured a golden portal, showing the Sanctum's dining room on the other side.

Loki looked at the portal with disdain. Stephen's smile widened. "Don't worry – I won’t let you fall."

"'Let me?'" Loki asked, arching an eyebrow. He stepped up to the portal but stopped short, glancing at the doctor. "Stop looking so smug. It's going to take far more than a supper and cheap flattery to win me over." Then, he disappeared from the hallway.

Stephen grinned to himself. “Challenge accepted,” he muttered as he followed through the portal and let it close behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoot dang. Whooooooo’s ready for romance?! ;) Hope you enjoyed, all! Let me know your thoughts in your reviews. And, hey, here’s something fun. . . Time for y’all to participate! For an upcoming chapter, someone will be driving a car. Give me suggestions for what kind of car she should drive – preferably something super cool, flashy, full of badassery. I’ll pick one of your suggestions and give a shout-out to the person who suggested it! :)


	4. The Beauty of Being a Tech Hoarder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki & Stephen spend some time in the Sanctum; Morgan works on a project; and a mysterious newcomer prepares to meet the Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haiiiiiii. So I’m trying to update at least once a week (give or take). I may be delayed a bit in coming weeks bc I have my first week of Doctoral Residency for my PhD – for which I am utterly unprepared and absolutely terrified. So, I abate my anxiety by avoiding thinking about it entirely & reading/writing for you people – you’re welcome. (Hey, anyone wanna participate in a research study? Lol [but no really?]).
> 
> I also must give a shout-out to one of my favorite fic writers, Laily – who is my guiding light for all things FrostStrange, and also is just an utterly phenomenal writer in general. I highly recommend reading anything by her, especially her FrostStrange series, starting with “The Contract.” https://archiveofourown.org/series/1320092
> 
> Anyway, enjoy chapter 4 my loves!

The Sanctum Sanctorum thrummed with magic. Loki felt it the second he stepped through the portal. He glanced up the expansive staircase, where he could already see several relics carefully locked away in cases. How easy it would be to break into those cases – just a flick of his wrist could probably overpower any wards that had been placed on them. He was exhilarated by the possibility of scouring the Sanctum, of going beyond what was in plain sight and finding all that was hidden within. His spine tingled with the thought of being able to play with all the ancient, mysterious, and powerful – _oh, so, so powerful_ – toys.

Then that familiar, dangerous (and thrilling) pull of chaos started to recede, like the ocean tide, until it was snuffed out altogether. It was replaced by something different: a calming sensation. . . like what Loki had felt in the hallway of the compound when he shook hands with Stephen Strange. There was a shift in the air, and static electricity all around. Warmth radiated through him, in a numbing, soothing way. And Loki could feel the darkness within him retreating, replaced by the radiancy of the golden mystic energy.

The chaos was still whispering to him, of course – as it was wont to do. But now it sounded quieter, muffled. Instead, he could hear and feel and _sense_ the magic around him, grounding him. It drew him back from the precipice upon which he normally would have plunged headfirst, paying no mind to the depths or rocks or nothingness. Before, when he was a different Loki, the temptation was too much, impossible to resist. In recent years, and especially the last few months, Loki had learned to shut out the voices and refuse the siren call of madness. But it had taken tremendous willpower.

This time, it was easy; he didn’t even have to think about it. All he had to do was follow the magic. It was an incredible, fascinating, wonderous, terrible thing, really, for something – _someone_ – to hold such sway. Certainly, Strange couldn’t be _that_ powerful, could he? Had he hexed or otherwise enchanted Loki in some way, unknown to him? Loki had been around many other sorcerers and never _felt_ their magic quite so strongly. Never had he been drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

Yet, that was precisely how Strange’s magic had affected him. It had coiled around him, lassoing him in its golden threads, pulling tighter and tighter. Normally, Loki would rage against such a thing. But now he found himself yielding – and actually wanting to yield. His own seiðr, which he loved and knew and which belonged to him and was him, was raucous and spontaneous, enveloping him in a cool mist. It was comfortable and _his_. But this new magic was calm and calculated and felt as though it had attached itself to him, like a tether to the human who wielded it; it was warm and even though it was new, it was still inviting. . .

“Loki,” Strange said softly, as if afraid that Loki would be startled. “I have to ask you something.”

Loki turned toward him and waited, taking note of the suspicion playing across the Sorcerer’s face. This felt more like what he had anticipated – some kind of interrogation or at least a stern talking-to.

“You truly mean no harm to this realm?”

“I truly don’t,” Loki answered easily. “I swear to it, by the Norns.” He held up his hand, showing that he took the oath seriously.

Strange observed him closely, keeping his eyes on Loki’s face. Searching. Finally, the doctor sighed. “Okay, then.” And he visibly relaxed, letting his shoulders fall slack and the heaviness in his eyes disappear.

“That’s it?” Loki couldn’t stop himself from inquiring. “You’re not going to ask me anything else – like, where I’ve been? What’s happened to me?”

Strange seemed to consider it, then shrugged. “If you feel so inclined to share that information, I’m sure you will. And I’ll ask if, and when, it becomes relevant. Until then, you have a right to your privacy.” He finished with a polite smile.

Loki half-laughed. “So, I say I’m good, and you just believe me?”

The other man clicked his tongue. “Actually, I asked if you meant this realm any harm. You said no. I have enough—shall we say, evidence?—to consider that matter closed.” Then, the Sorcerer’s lip quirked up, in a devious way that Loki had oft seen in his own reflection. “Being good, though – now, that’s something else entirely.”

Strange’s eyes were studying Loki again, this time raking up and down in an almost predatory manner. It was a hungry expression that lasted only a second, but it was long enough. That look combined with the static charge in the air allowed Loki to gauge the situation. He smirked to himself, intrigued by the turn of events.

Finally, Strange turned on his heel and started walking. “The kitchen’s this way.”

Loki followed the Sorcerer down an immaculate hallway. Watched as the Cloak of Levitation lifted off the man’s shoulders. It drifted lazily in the opposite direction, happy to be home.

“You take excellent care of your Sanctum, Doctor,” Loki complimented.

Strange glanced over his shoulder, beaming proudly. He pushed one side of double swinging doors, holding it open and waiting. Loki sauntered through, pretending not to recognize the action for the chivalrous gesture it felt like.

The kitchen was smaller than Loki expected. There was a petite table in the corner of the room, pushed against the wall, with three chairs but only two place-settings. Obviously, it was intended for the two Masters who resided there but left room for a third, should the pair ever have company. If Loki had to guess, they did not have company often.

There was a respectable amount of counter and cupboard space, with a generous refrigerator and other well-kept appliances, large and small. One part of the counter had several compact boxes strewn across it, along with dishes and silverware.

“Please, sit down,” Strange said, pointing to the table.

“Thank you,” Loki stated, minding his manners. His mother would be proud. That thought created a lump in his throat, but he quickly swallowed it down and turned his face neutral just in time for Strange to spin around with two plates full of food. He crossed the room and stood by the table with a wily glint in his gray eyes.

“Have you ever had sushi?” Strange asked. A beat. “Do you know what sushi is?” he amended.

Loki looked thoughtful for a moment before finally shaking his head in the negative. Strange laughed and set the plates down. He quickly returned to the cupboards, pulling out two wine glasses. “You’re in for a treat,” he promised with a smile. “This sushi bar just opened about a block away. And it is _incredible_ – they make a chicken yakitori that is just—” he hummed softly, closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. When his eyes opened, he tapped his chin. “Honestly, it’s kind of unfortunate that this will be your first taste of sushi – because you’ll probably be ruined for all other sushi.”

Loki chuckled quietly. Strange filled the glasses with white wine, and looked offended. “You don’t believe me?”

“Well, you are laying it on a little thick.”

The doctor scoffed, approaching with the full glasses of Moscato. He set them down before taking a seat himself. Unexpectedly, he didn’t sit in the chair across from Loki, where the other place mat was. Rather, he sat down in the chair closest to Loki, scooting the food in front of himself before sliding Loki’s plate toward him.

Loki leaned forward, inspecting the food. On his plate was an array of rather colorful items, although much of it was unrecognizable – mostly from being so tightly packed and wound together. He must have made a face because when he looked back up, Strange was frowning.

“I probably have something else, if you want. . .” he offered. He scooted his chair back and moved to get up. But Loki’s hand shot out, grasping Strange’s wrist to stop him.

Wisps of green seiðr encircled the man’s arm, lingering for a few seconds even after Loki ripped his hand away. They both averted their eyes. Loki broke the silence: “Tell me about this. . . _sushi_. What do you recommend?”

Strange settled back into his chair and smiled. “What kind of food do you like?” At Loki’s inquisitive glance, the Sorcerer tried again. “Do you like bland foods, or lots of flavor?”

Loki simply shrugged. Strange exhaled sharply, but he didn’t sound annoyed. He leaned forward, pointing to an item on the plate. “Try that one.”

Loki stared, unblinking, from the food to the mortal and back. Finally, with a sigh and a hearty eye-roll, Loki picked up the morsel. Satisfied, Strange started in on his own food.

Loki was carefully examining the food, holding it experimentally between his fingers. It was mostly rice, almost in a ball, with soft green and white and pink bits packed within it, all wrapped up in a string of dark green.

Strange let out a loud, groaning sigh. “Would you just put it in your mouth?” He took another bite.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t concern yourself with my mouth, Doctor.”

The loaded statement made Strange choke on his firecracker salmon. He coughed and reached for his wine glass, taking a small sip to wash down the spicy bite that was caught in his throat. With a smirk, Loki popped the whole thing in his mouth and chewed for what seemed like forever. The god swallowed with a gulp, then locked eyes with his dining mate, face still completely neutral.

Strange let out an exasperated laugh. “Well? Did you like it?”

After another moment of that blank stare, Loki let his lip curl up the slightest bit. “It was acceptable.”

“You’re tough to please, aren’t you?”

“You’ve no idea,” Loki mumbled. Then, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, before grabbing another piece of the same food and ate it.

“It’s called a California Roll,” Strange explained, nodding toward the food. “It’s rice, with avocado and crab. Wrapped in seaweed.”

Loki scrunched up his nose in disdain. “It doesn’t _sound_ like it would be good.” But he actually liked it so he grabbed a third Roll and ate it. It made Strange smile, and Loki found that he liked that, too. “What else is here?”

Strange’s smile widened and he stroked his chin thoughtfully. Finally, he pointed to something else. Loki twisted his mouth in curiosity. “And that one would be. . .?”

The Sorcerer Supreme opened his mouth but then closed it and snickered. “Try it first. Then I’ll tell you.”

Scoffing, Loki picked up the piece Strange had recommended. “I used to pull that trick on Thor, you know.” At Strange’s inquisitive look, Loki elaborated: “I convinced him to eat, and do, all kinds of ridiculous things for years.” He took a bite of food, chewing slowly and feeling slightly nostalgic.

Strange nodded with an amused smile. “That’s what siblings do. Or so they say. Not that I’d know.”

Loki swallowed and set down the remaining bite of food, looking at Strange with inquisitiveness. “You were an only child?”

The doctor’s eyes hazed briefly and he looked down at the table. He smacked his lips and said, “Not exactly.” Then, he grabbed his wine glass and took a large swallow.

Silence settled between them and Loki watched as Strange stared into his wine glass, swirling the remaining liquid. Loki sighed softly. “I apologize, if I overstepped my bounds.”

Strange looked up suddenly and they locked eyes. His face spoke of profound grief, but he offered an appreciative smile. “No, it’s fine.” He set his glass down and leaned back in his chair, waving a hand somewhat flippantly. Quickly changing the subject, Strange nodded toward the food. “That one is _Unagi_.”

Loki glanced at his plate and then back to the doctor. “Eel?” he asked.

Strange looked surprised – impressed? – and Loki smirked. “I do speak Japanese, you know.”

And then Strange let out a soft ‘ _ah’_ as he poured himself another glass of wine. “That’s Allspeak, right?” he inquired, topping off Loki’s glass and emptying the bottle.

“Yes. And thank you.” The mage took an appreciative sip. He held the glass up, looking at the liquid curiously. “You know, I’ve only had red wines here on Midgard. I found them to be quite bitter. This,” he smiled to his companion, “is much better.”

“In that case, next time I’ll break out the Riesling. It’s not quite as sweet, but it’s smoother.”

Loki put the glass down and leaned back in his chair, arching his eyebrow. “Presumptuous of you – to think there would be a ‘next time,’ Doctor.”

Strange gaped. “Oh, I didn’t mean to presume. I was just— well, ah. I—” he halted his backpedaling, clearly trying to read the expression in Loki’s eyes.

“Perhaps it’s not just the wine that’s smooth,” Loki told him in a not-quite-whisper. Before Strange could respond, Loki stood up. He stretched languidly, raising his arms and clasping his hands together over his head. Watching the doctor out of the corner of his eye, he twisted, popping the joints in his shoulders, neck, back – exaggeratedly rolling his lithe limbs and long torso in a very cat-like movement, with as much (if not more) grace. It was evident that he’d had the desired effect, when Strange’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow and he inhaled deeply.

The Asgardian ran a hand through his hair, swooping aside some errant locks that had fallen across his forehead. He smiled to himself and was glad that he’d not only decided to shower but that, despite the slight unruliness, he’d left his hair loose and natural afterward. His hand was still in his hair, at the back of his head, and he ruffled it with his fingernails, letting it flop into a purposefully messy look. Strange’s eyes were locked on him the whole time, but he pretended not to notice.

Finally, Strange blinked a few times and cleared his throat. He stood and started gathering up the plates. Loki puffed out a soft breath before flicking his wrist and instantly clearing the table. Strange chuckled fondly before looking to the prince.

“Show-off,” the doctor accused playfully.

Loki merely shrugged. They stood quietly for a moment and then an idea struck. “You have a library here, I am sure?”

“Of course,” Strange answered. He anticipated what was coming next. “Would you like to see it?” To which Loki nodded enthusiastically. He was about to ask which way, when a swirl of gold opened up a rift in the room and he found himself pulled through, suddenly standing in the library next to the Sorcerer Supreme.

He let out an exasperated, but lighthearted, huff. “Now who’s showing off?”

Strange gave him a smug smile. Then, he waved his hand in front of him in an ‘ _after you_ ’ manner. Loki didn’t need to be told twice. He began wandering through the stacks, with Strange following along behind him all the way.

The place was dusty, but still well-kept. It smelt of parchment and ink and old books – all the best possible things. Loki inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and smiling. Then he looked up at the bookshelf beside him. He reached up and ran his fingers along the spines of the books as he walked. He used just his fingertips, drawing the ancient energy that was radiating off the books – each one different – and acknowledging the power and knowledge that was contained within.

Finally, at the end of the aisle, he stopped. There was a cart with some books on it, likely ones that Strange or his fellow Master, Wong, had been reshelving. With a contented sigh, Loki played his fingers across those books with a sort of reverence, flipping open the cover of a couple and then just idly flipping through the pages before settling his palm flat on one.

“I suppose,” he began, softly, “I should return to the Compound.”

He heard Strange’s footsteps come closer, until he was directly behind him. “Or not.” the Sorcerer’s breath was warm on the nape of Loki’s neck. In the next instant, Strange’s hand was on top of Loki’s and he was turning Loki toward him. “I _was_ told to keep an eye on you. So. . . You could stay here,” Strange offered.

“Here?” Loki repeated, watching with fascination at the way his seiðr swirled with the mystic energy once again.

Strange ran his hand up Loki’s arm, almost as though he were chasing the golden sparks. When he reached Loki’s shoulder, he used just his fingertips to trace the line across Loki’s collarbone, up his throat to hook a finger under his jaw and tilt his head up, pulling his eyes away from the magic – which had now expanded, to fill his entire body and he was certain that he looked like he was encased in a sparking, sizzling fire, just as Strange was encapsulated in green, swirling mist. They were equal height and looking eye-to-eye, soul-to-soul.

“Stay here,” Strange whispered. “With me.”

Loki wasn’t sure who leaned in first. All he knew was that Stephen Strange’s lips were on his. And Strange’s hand cupped his jaw, and the other hand landed on his hip. Then, instead of answering with words, Loki made it clear that yes, he would stay, by wrapping his arms Strange’s neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Outside the compound, one of the storage facilities had a second floor. The lower level was originally meant to be a cellar for food-stuffs like potatoes or canned goods, mostly non-perishables. But no one ever used it for that. At one point, it was suggested that it be an armory, but that seemed impractical since it was both underground and not very close to the other buildings. Finally, it was decided that it should be a fallout shelter, in the event of large-scale attack or, in the very least, severely inclement weather.

No one really remembers any of that, though. The storage building itself primarily stores lawn and garden equipment, since it is so near to the perimeter, by the pastures. Around the side of that building are three steps, leading down to a door secured with a keypad lock-code. Through the door are several more steps, leading down into the underground bunker.

However, since no one remembers any of that, it went largely unused. Until Morgan Stark discovered it (as she tended to have a knack for discovering missing, forgotten, and broken things).

So when Morgan found the run-down shack full of hedge trimmers and lawnmowers, she thought it might have some kind of potential. And when she walked around to the side and found the door and the keypad, she knew she had struck gold. The lock-code had never even been programmed! Inside was a hodge-podge of items from the various attempts to make use of the building. It also had electricity and old tech. And the best part was that now, nobody was even aware of its existence.

The temptation to turn it into a secret lab was too great – no one would have been able to resist.

So that's where Morgan found herself the evening before the Avengers reunion. She unloaded her backpack, laying out all her tools and trinkets. The Iron-Man helmet, she set down with great care on the work desk in the bunker. Then, she found the circuit board that she had successfully rewired earlier in the Stark Wing and placed it next to the Mark V helmet. Finally, she opened a drawer and pulled out another helmet.

She’d been working on it for a while now. Originally, it had been the crudely made, tinny helmet of the Mark I. Morgan regarded the piece carefully, assessing the areas that she had upgraded. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then finally gave a firm nod of approval. The original Iron-Man headpiece was almost unrecognizable from the version her father had donned when he blasted his way out of that cave in Afghanistan. The girl had made it significantly more streamlined, using the Mark V as a model. And although she didn’t have any vibranium readily available, she had replaced the tin and bolts with steel and soldering. She pulled out her laser pen and quickly sealed up one final part of the face-plate. Then, she stepped back to look at the helmet, sighing.

“Perfect! Now, for the paint,” she said aloud, smiling at her work. She grabbed a mechanical arm and hovered it over the helmet, clicking a nozzle into place, which was attached to tubing leading to a can of metallic blue paint. Then she got to work, carefully spray-painting her masterpiece. Once the blue was finished, she switched to a golden color and worked on that.

When the girl was finished, she wiped her forehead and didn’t even care that she probably smeared paint all over. The helmet looked better than she could have hoped. Next, she would need to finish the chest-plate she had started crafting. That’s where the circuit board would come in handy. But she decided to hold off on that for now, because she had another project that needed her attention.

Morgan picked up the clunky, black laptop that she used for her most important work. When she'd first found it, the thing was full of sand and she was amazed it even turned on, let alone that it _worked_ – especially considering the pixelated-looking display that signified its antiquity. It ended up being an amazing find because it allowed Morgan to bypass various security settings, including operating completely outside of FRIDAY's awareness since it wasn't actually connected to the same servers. Even if FRIDAY did notice the device's presence, there wasn't much she could do about it ever since Morgan figured out how to set up a constantly re-routing IP address. For all anyone knew, the laptop was operating somewhere out of Dubai, or pinging off a tower in Melbourne. It was genius, if Morgan said so herself (and she did).

She opened the command prompt and began a series of coding:

**< r u n > data set // project: Restore // function: AI, System codex: JARVIS**

Upon hitting **ENTER** , the command screen started rapidly scrolling with a series of encoded binary phrases, reminiscent of _The Matrix_. She read the words on the screen:

**end result: JARVIS restore, success // all systems operational.**

Morgan felt her heart thudding in her chest.

It had been a couple months since Morgan was able to access her dad's old JARVIS files. Putting it all together was challenging, because much of the information had been corrupted, encased in the virus-like remnants of Ultron. But once the data had been separated, Morgan had a skeleton from which to rebuild JARVIS’s system. After that, all she had to do was piecemeal the JARVIS files with an array of other files and systems that her father had stored away.

“The beauty of being a tech hoarder,” Morgan muttered to herself. She saved all the newly processed data in a zip-folder and drafted an email:

**S,**

**Looks like success to me. . .**

**Review. If you concur, bring _everything._**

**\- M**

**P.S. don’t worry about the power source – I’m on it.**

Morgan attached the zipped folder and sent it. She could still feel her heart racing, rejoicing in the prospect that lay before her. If she was right – which she was willing to bet that she was – then she had just unlocked a major plot-point. All she could do now, though, was wait for her theories to be confirmed.

Well, that, and to find out if Rocket was in a bargaining mood.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

The young man jumped down from the fire escape, landing hard on the pavement. He cursed under his breath as he straightened up, feeling the force of the drop in his knees.

He’d screwed up.

He didn’t know how, exactly. But he knew that he’d made a big mistake. Because nothing was the way it was supposed to be. Things looked wrong, and there were whispers of events that hadn’t happened, couldn’t have happened, things that happened in an entirely different way, things that had never even been a threat but had somehow come to pass. . .

He was not familiar with this version of Earth. All his tech could tell him was that it was known as Earth-616 in the multiverse – which, of course, didn’t mean shit to him.

He flexed his hand, grounding himself with the familiar feel of the Stark gauntlets attached to both hands. He walked forward, stopping at the mouth of the alleyway. He sighed, taking comfort in the knowledge that he could encompass himself in his armor at a moment’s notice if necessary.

“JOCASTA,” he said into his earpiece. “Have you been able to access Stark’s servers?”

“ _Just the basics. There’s an unexpectedly high level of security, so I haven’t managed to break through everything, yet,_ ” The AI replied.

“What have you found, of what you can get to?”

“ _Not much_ ,” JOCASTA answered, sounding frustrated. “ _But,_ ” she continued, “ _It looks like you were caught on a CCTV camera in Chinatown the other night. They’re_ very _interested in that._ ”

That gave the young man pause. “What do you mean? Interested in what way?”

“ _There’s an algorithm in place, searching for anything that matches the energy signature your gauntlets released_.” There was a moment of silence. Then, JOCASTA asked, “ _Do you want me to plant decoys or something, to keep them off of you?_ ”

“No,” he answered, an idea blooming.

“ _What are you planning?_ ” JOCASTA asked, not even bothering to hide the judgment in her voice. She’d always thought he was an idiot.

“Only that if we can’t find them, maybe we should let them find us.” He waited a second, expecting an argument. JOCASTA didn’t say anything, but he swore he could hear her let out an annoyed huff.

“ _I’m not a mind reader_ ,” JOCASTA said, finally. If it hadn’t been such a serious situation, the man would have laughed.

“Tap into any and all surveillance systems nearby as I move. Make sure they all catch me, and that the Avengers’ algorithm is activated. Then, we’ll let them come.”

With that, he flipped up his hood and powered up the gauntlets—but he didn’t fire them; he simply kept them on as he darted out of the alley and made his way down the open street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know basically nothing about coding so sorry if that’s inaccurate. :P Thanks for reading – please leave comments! See ya next chapter :)


	5. Nice Flerken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan makes a deal with Rocket; Carol brings a plus-one to the reunion as Fury is faced with a phobia from his past; Thor and Loki reunite; & some of the Avengers get a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves! I have actually had most of this chapter planned out (in my head as well as in a sort of outline) for a long time. So I was pretty stoked to finally be able to write it all out. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Plus, I was super inspired during this one – Disney+ & Tom Hiddleston have released amazing details about the upcoming Loki series, for which I am so excited that I don’t even have words. On top of that, we’ve learned more about Doctor Strange 2 and how Wanda is going to be a major player in it. Ah I am so happy. Whew! Okay, onward people – We gettin’ into the thick of it now! It’s gon’ get REAL from here on out. 😊
> 
> Ooh, also, to help set the mood: During the car scene in this chapter, the radio is playing 90s alternative music. The songs I had in mind, & recommend listening to while reading, are [“Only Happy When it Rains” by Garbage](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GpBFOJ3R0M4), followed by [“Feel Good, Inc.” by Gorillaz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dKez38i5h14).

When Morgan woke up on the day of the Avengers reunion, her mind was already racing. She jumped out of bed and rushed through her morning routine. After brushing her teeth and throwing on a pair of jeans and an old, ratty Stark Industries t-shirt, she left her room and headed into the main part of the apartment.

"Morning!" Pepper called from the stove where she was frying a couple eggs.

"Hi, Mom," Morgan replied cheerfully. She snagged a slice of toast off the counter and stuffed it in her mouth. A few hurried bites and she had pretty much downed the bread. Then, she turned and started toward the front door. "Bye, Mom," she said, slightly muffled from the mouthful of her last bites of toast.

"Whoa, hang on a second!" Pepper walked around the kitchen island and grabbed Morgan by the shoulders. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" she asked, wiping toothpaste off her daughter's lip.

Morgan busied herself with dusting bread crumbs off her shirt. "Oh, you know," she stated with a shrug. "Places to go, people to see. . ."

Pepper leaned back, hands on her hips and a knowing look on her face. "Uh-huh."

"What?!" Morgan asked, a bit too defensively.

Her mother narrowed her eyes. "What are you up to?"

Morgan let out an exaggerated groan. "Nothing!"

"Then why are you running around here like you're trying to win a race against the Quinjet?"

Morgan chewed the inside of her cheek and looked around the room, avoiding eye contact with her mom. "No reason," she murmured.

Pepper stared her down for a moment longer before sighing. She put her hand under Morgan's chin, forcing the girl to look at her. "Be good," she said firmly.

Morgan's eyes lit up and she nodded fervently. Then, she darted for the door, grabbing her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. With her hand on the door-knob she paused, looking back to her mom, who was watching her expectantly.

"How much today?" Pepper asked.

Morgan looked up, tapping her chin as though deep in thought. Then she looked back to her mom. "Hmm. Right around. . . fifteen-hundred."

Pepper gasped. "Only 1500? Yesterday you loved me 2000!"

"And if you had cut the crust off the toast, it would have been 2000 _today_ ," Morgan told her, very matter-of-factly. Then, seeming to rethink things, she added, "But since your interrogation was light, I guess I could bump it up to, like, 1850?"

"Ugh, you're impossible. Get out of my sight!" Pepper teased, throwing her hands up. They both laughed as Pepper returned to the eggs on the stove and Morgan hurried out the door.

Once in the hallway, Morgan turned and started running toward the stairs.

Bruce, who had just stepped out of his door, had to jump backward to avoid being mowed down. "Whoa!" the man shouted with a laugh.

"Sorry, Uncle Bruce!" Morgan yelled behind her as she entered the stairwell.

The girl bounded up the stairs, two at a time. She rounded the corner and skidded to a halt in front of the Guardians' hostel. Panting and heart hammering in her throat, Morgan raised her fist to knock on the door. Just as her hand was about to connect with the wood, the door opened, throwing her off balance and making her tip forward.

"Morgan!" a familiar voice said, catching the girl and steadying her.

She glanced up, still panting. In stilted phrases, between breaths, she said: “Hi. Good morn—whew. Morning, Uncle Quill.”

Peter Quill leaned against the doorframe and smirked. “Whatcha doin’?” he asked in a sing-song voice.

Morgan held up a finger, putting the conversation on pause. She took a slow, deep breath, collecting herself. Then, she tried again. “Is Rocket here?”

Quill opened his mouth, then closed it, furrowing his brows in thought. “I don’t think I’ve seen him yet this morning.” Then, he threw his head back and hollered into the hostel: "Hey, anyone seen the furball?!" When nobody answered, he turned around. "Hey!" There was still nothing, so he jerked his head, motioning for Morgan to come in. She smiled and hopped over the threshold into the living space.

Quill stepped around the girl and led her further inside. "Guys. C’mon.” He threw his arms out to the side. “Isn't _anyone_ listening to me?"

"No," Nebula answered monotonously from where she was laying on the couch.

Drax straightened up from where he had been hunched over digging through the refrigerator. He eyed Nebula quizzically. "If you answered him, doesn't that mean you're listening?"

Mantis, who was also in the kitchen, pulled herself up to sit on the counter and giggled. "Yeah," she pitched in. "You can't answer someone if you don't hear them!" She and Drax looked at each other and burst into a fit of laughter.

Nebula sat up and leaned forward on the couch, elbows on her knees. She gave the pair a side-eye. "Oh, look," she droned in monotone. "You have bested me again with your wit."

Drax and Mantis let their laughter subside and Drax nodded heartily before settling into a proud stance. "We are no match for you, Nebula."

Morgan frowned. "Wait, don't you mean—"

Quill put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head softly. "Just – yeah, no. Let it go."

With a sigh, Nebula stood up. She strode forward and stopped in front of Morgan. "You want the flea-bag? He's in his room." She jammed her thumb to point down the hall.

Morgan smiled in thanks and skipped down the small hallway to Rocket's room. She rapped her knuckles on the door.

"State your business!" called the gruff voice from inside the room.

"It's Morgan. I have a proposition for you," she told him.

There was a moment of silence. Then, the door swung open and Morgan looked down. Rocket was already walking away from the door, retreating back into the room. So she followed, assuming that's what the raccoon wanted. She pushed the door shut behind her, for privacy.

Rocket hopped up onto the bed. He looked at Morgan very seriously for a minute, before relaxing and sitting back on his haunches. "So?" he asked.

"Right." Morgan plopped onto the edge of the bed – which was ridiculously large for such a small creature. "You've been collecting magic and storing it in your energy capsules, yeah?"

Rocket's whiskers twitched. "What if I have?"

"I wanna make a trade for it."

After a brief second, Rocket laughed. He dropped down to sit on the edge of the mattress and slapped his knee as he howled with laughter. “That’s a good one, kiddo,” he managed to get out, wiping his eyes.

"Rocket, I'm being serious!" Morgan cried, jumping to her feet.

She glowered down at the pint-sized Avenger until he finally looked at her and, upon seeing her expression, he immediately fell silent and sat up at attention.

"Well, shit. You really do mean it, don't you?"

Morgan folded her arms over her chest and continued staring, wordlessly. Rocket held his paws up, yielding. He even shuddered – which was probably exaggerated to make a point, but Morgan appreciated the gesture and softened her glare.

"Okay, Starkling," Rocket said decidedly. He sat back, bringing his foot up to scratch behind his ear. Then, he stood on the bed again. "I'll hear your proposal."

Morgan took a deep breath. "So, I need some of Wanda's power. Like, two capsules full maybe?"

Rocket sniffed, then picked at his teeth with a claw. "And if I were to confirm that I had such a thing, tell me: Why would I give it to you?" He pointed at the girl, narrowing his eyes briefly before letting his arms fall back to his sides.

"You wouldn't be _giving_ me anything. I told you, it'd be a trade," Morgan reiterated.

Rocket rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded. "That's classy." He jumped down from the bed and stepped forward, looking up at Morgan. "It'd have to be equal or greater value. What have you got that's worth two—" he held up two clawed digits for emphasis—“capsules of Maximoff's power?"

Morgan grinned at him, already prepared with her bargaining chip. "How about two capsules of Arc reactor energy?"

The raccoon considered the offer. Then shook his head. Morgan was about to protest, when Rocket said: " _Three_ capsules of arc reactor energy."

They stared at each other for a minute before Morgan finally gave in. "Deal," she said, stretching her hand out. Rocket grabbed her fingers with his paw and they shook.

Then, he scurried across the room to a cupboard. "Get over here," he ordered. Morgan did as she was told, and saw Rocket pulling out three of his homemade batteries. He handed the empty capsules to Morgan one at a time, so that she could load them into her backpack.

Once she had all three, she zipped up the pack and put it back over her shoulders.

Rocket rested his paws at his hips. "You get your power when I get mine. Capisce?"

Morgan frowned slightly, but nodded. She turned to leave but stopped and looked back at her co-conspirator. "You won’t. . . _tell_ anyone about this, right?"

Rocket looked genuinely offended, shaking his head. He gave another toothy grin, which looked more like a snarl. "I'm no amateur, kid. Snitches get stitches." He placed a paw over his heart and puffed out his chest. “It’s our little secret.” Then the raccoon waved his paws, shooing the human girl. "Now get the hell outta here."

Morgan smiled at him and hurried away, shutting his door behind her and walking triumphantly out of the hostel, with quick goodbyes to the other Guardians. Once back in the hallway, she made a beeline for the electrical room, hoping that everyone would be too busy with everything else to notice her siphoning off a few capsules of power from one of the generators.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

At an unmemorable rest stop off the side of a random highway, Nick Fury stood outside, waiting. He had picked the location specifically because it was relatively nondescript. The day was especially sunny, so he had found a shade-tree to wait under. A black duffle bag sat on the ground at his feet. In spite of the warm summer temperatures, Fury wore his usual black pants, shirt, and long overcoat. He slid his sleeve up to check his watch. It read 8:02 am. He dropped his arm to his side with a heavy sigh.

“Late,” he mumbled.

Then, as if on cue, he heard the tell-tale sound of an engine whining in the distance. The car was blurry on the horizon at first, but gradually came into focus, the roar of the engine increasing as it approached. It rolled into the parking lot of the rest-stop, leaving faint skid-marks on the pavement as it came to a sudden stop in front of Fury. He could hear the bass pounding from outside the red and black car. It had two doors, and was sporty, probably of the luxury-sports variety. Certainly expensive and flashy – the exact _opposite_ of Fury’s usual motif.

The window rolled down on the passenger’s door. Fury leaned down to look inside. He was met with the bright smile of Carol Danvers, leaning across the seat with her sunglasses tilted down on her nose.

“Hey. Need a ride?” she asked with a wink.

Fury grunted softly and picked up his duffle bag. Carol popped the trunk so he could throw the bag in. He slammed it shut and then climbed in the passenger’s seat, buckling his seatbelt before looking over at the driver with incredulity.

“What in the actual hell?” Fury asked, dipping his head to reference their mode of transportation.

Carol scoffed and lovingly ran her hands along the dashboard. “This baby is a top of the line [Acura NSX](https://imgur.com/7dJjXm5). You know me – higher, further, faster.” She had to speak loudly over the radio, which was blaring [a 90s alt-pop song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GpBFOJ3R0M4) that Fury just knew would get stuck in his head. Damn Carol.

Fury reached forward and turned the knob to lower the volume of the radio. He shook his head. “So, you’re _trying_ to draw attention to yourself?”

Carol pushed her sunglasses into their proper place. “The best way to blend in is by standing out.” Then, Carol leaned over and quietly added, “Nobody expects it.”

She sat up straight and gripped the steering wheel, laughing. Without another word, she threw the clutch and sped off. Once they were back on the highway, Carol adjusted her rearview mirror with a sly smile on her face.

“Oh no. I know that look.” Fury groaned, leaning back in his seat. He ran his hands over his face. “What?” he asked, hesitantly.

“I have a surprise,” Carol replied, confirming Fury’s worry. She glanced over at him and jerked her head toward the backseat. “Look back there.”

With an uneasy feeling, Fury rotated and looked in the back. He found himself incapable of holding back a yelp. Quickly, he righted himself in his seat and stared straight ahead. Daring one more look at the kennel in the backseat, he swore under his breath before looking at Carol.

“Please,” he growled through gritted teeth. “ _Please_ , tell me that is a normal, ordinary Earth cat.”

Carol took an exit off the interstate and casually shrugged. “Doesn’t he _look_ like a normal, ordinary Earth cat?”

Fury pointed at her. “That’s not funny.”

Stopping at a red-light and flicking her blinker on, Carol chuckled softly. “It’s _kinda_ funny.”

“Hell to the no, Danvers.” Fury pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me that you do not have a motherfuckin’ _Flerken_ in your backseat right now.”

“Look at the kennel. It says ‘live cat,’ does it not?” Carol answered, in a very non-answering kind of way. “His name’s Chewie,” she chirped. “Isn’t he cute?”

Peeking back at the kennel, Chewie mewled softly. Fury scoffed and looked away. “No,” he told Carol.

She clicked her tongue and peeked in the backseat. “Don’t listen to him, Chewie. He’s just grumpy.”

Fury pointed at Carol. “I wanna hear, in no uncertain terms, that I am not in a car with a Flerken.”

Carol let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t worry. Look at him. He’s a cat.”

“That is not convincing,” Fury stated. He growled and muttered a few choice words under his breath. In response, the man shifted to put distance between himself and the creature in the kennel, leaning hard against the passenger door. “Just, keep that _thing_ away from me.”

Carol chuckled but didn’t have time to respond before Fury’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and answered with a gruff, “What?” – eliciting more laughter from Carol.

“ _Morning, Director,_ ” Sam Wilson said on the other line.

“Wilson,” Fury replied. He turned Carol’s radio all the way down. He grit his teeth. “What did you fuck up?”

Sam was quiet for a minute. “ _Uh, sor—sorry, what?_ ”

Fury sighed deeply. “You know I’ll be there in a few hours. Yet, here you are, calling me. Obviously, something has gone wrong and now you have no choice but to tell me about it.”

There was a defeated sigh from Wilson. “ _So, we had an unexpected guest yesterday_.” A deep breath. “ _Loki is alive, Sir_.”

Fury didn’t say anything. He held his breath. He knew that as bad as that news sounded, Wilson must be calling about something even worse.

“ _He didn’t seem like a threat, and we were keeping him in the Compound. At least until Thor got here. And you, of course._ "

“Wilson, get to the point,” Fury hissed.

“ _Sorry_ ,” Sam said. “ _Um, so, yeah. We were all good. Loki was here. I put Strange on security detail. But—_ ”

“But what?”

“ _Loki’s gone, Sir._ ”

Fury scoffed. “The fuck you mean ‘gone,’ Wilson? What happened to Strange?”

Wilson’s reply was heavy with guilt. “ _We, uh, we can’t get ahold of him_.”

“You can’t—” Fury let out a dark laugh. “Let me get this straight: You had one of the most powerful beings in the _universe_ right under your noses – surrounded by how many of Earth’s supposed ‘greatest defenders’ and you _let him get away_. Then, as if that wasn’t a big enough shit-storm, you’ve also lost the _only_ person who would be powerful enough to stop the aforementioned being.”

Fury laughed scornfully, lowering the phone and tapping it to his chin briefly. When he brought it back up to his ear, he continued: “That about sum everything up?”

Sam cleared his throat. “ _Technically, yes. But—_ "

“’Technically,’ my ass, Wilson. I will be there as soon as I can. Don’t make things worse before I get there,” Fury commanded. He hung up and dropped the phone to his lap and looked straight ahead.

They had exited the freeway and were sitting at a four-way stop, preparing to head down the state highway that would take them to the small town and then the countryside where the Avengers Compound was tucked away. Carol took off her sunglasses and glanced over to her passenger, looking at him expectantly.

“Drive,” Fury ordered.

“You got it, Boss.” Carol gave a quick, partial salute and flicked her sunglasses back on her face. The Captain made the necessary turn and slammed her foot down on the gas pedal. For her own sanity, Carol turned the radio back up, letting [a 90s rap song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dKez38i5h14) reverberate through the tension in the car.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Stephen woke up with the worst headache of his life. So, why did he feel better – _happier_ – than he could remember feeling in a long time?

There was a soft rustle from next to him in the bed.

 _Oh. Right_.

Stephen sat up and leaned back against his headboard, palming his tired eyes. When he looked down, he smiled. And he knew it was probably a giant, stupid-looking grin, so he covered his mouth with his hand. His other hand hovered over the back of the body in bed with him.

Loki was lying on his stomach, with the sheet wrapped around his waist. Stephen ghosted his fingers across the creamy, ivory skin. The gesture caused Loki to stir and Stephen quickly pulled his hand away, bundling his hands in the comforter.

“Mm,” Loki hummed softly. He rolled over with a contented sigh but froze instantly when his head landed on Stephen’s thigh. He looked confused at first, then almost concerned, and then confused again.

“Hi,” Stephen said softly, breaking the silence.

Loki scooted away and sat up in the middle of the bed. “Morning,” he said slowly. He licked his lips nervously as his eyes darted around Stephen’s bedroom – wait, when had they made it up there? – in curiosity. He bunched the sheet up around his waist.

Stephen forced his gaze away from the sharp curves of the god’s hips and his toned stomach. An odd feeling of pride blossomed in his chest when he saw the blood-bruises, caused by his kisses, along Loki’s defined collarbone. Looking at the perfectly angular face, Stephen smiled. “Your hair’s curly,” he blurted. Loki’s oceanic eyes widened and he threw a hand up. Wisps of green seiðr danced at his fingertips, ready to straighten out the dark locks. “No,” Stephen said, reaching a hand out to still Loki’s wrist. “You should leave it. It’s nice.”

Loki cleared his throat but didn’t protest. He looked down at where Stephen’s hand was still around his wrist. Looking at the marred skin of his own tanned hands compared to the flawlessness of Loki’s alabaster wrist, Stephen felt profoundly bare. He pulled his hand away, burying it in the blanket again.

Silently, Loki leaned forward. He moved the comforter slightly, just enough to reveal Stephen’s hands but not to cause an indecent amount of exposure. Then, with an unexpected gentleness, Loki grasped both of those scarred hands. A flash of memory suddenly hit Stephen – standing in the library the night before with Loki’s lips on his hands, following the lines of each scar.

“You shouldn’t hide these,” Loki whispered. He positioned Stephen’s hands so one was resting on each knee and stroked them tenderly. As he did, Stephen felt a cooling sensation and the chronic soreness and stiffness abated. Loki laid his hands flat on the Sorcerer’s and looked him in the eye. “These allowed you to become who you are.”

Something caught in Stephen’s throat. He felt himself leaning forward but stopped, pulling a hand from Loki’s knee (regretfully), to hold his head with a soft groan.

“Headache?”

“Yeah,” Stephen replied. “How did you. . . ?” Stephen’s voice trailed off distractedly. Loki still had his legs crossed in a sitting position, but was laying on his back in some weird kind of stretch.

“That’d be the hangover,” Loki answered when he sat back up, stretching out his arms. He rolled his shoulders until he heard a satisfying crack and then slithered back down to lay on his side on the mattress.

“Hangover?” Stephen muttered. “I didn’t think I drank that much?”

Loki raised up onto an elbow and propped his head on his hand. The sheet still covered his waist but one leg had slid out and he subtly crooked it up between Stephen’s legs. He let out a soft, throaty laugh that was entirely too appealing. “It had less to do with your weak Midgardian alcohol and more to do with the power of our intermingled magic.”

Testing the waters, Stephen slid down so he was lying on his back, then turned on his side to face the Trickster – effectively trapping Loki’s long leg between both of his own. Loki didn’t move away. So Stephen propped himself up on his elbows, giving an inquisitive look to his companion. “Are you saying I’m drunk on magic?”

Loki nodded. “Or, at least, you _were_. Now you’re coming down from it.”

“How does that even work?”

Loki suddenly reached forward and placed a hand on the side of Stephen’s face. He felt that cooling sensation again and then his headache was almost entirely gone.

“Better?” Loki asked. Stephen only nodded. Loki sighed as he pulled his hand away, splaying it out on the mattress. “Magic can be a potent intoxicant, especially if it’s a highly concentrated dose – which, by the way, it was.” Loki smiled and it was a genuine smile that went all the way up to his eyes. “It would seem that your magic _really_ likes my seiðr.”

Stephen thought for a moment. Absent-mindedly, he put his hand on the bed next to Loki’s, tracing patterns in the mattress and allowing their fingertips to brush now and then. “So, were you drunk on magic, too?” he asked, somewhat teasingly.

“Yes,” Loki answered simply. “But I’m not human, so I’m affected differently. Similar to alcohol, magical intoxication can have a dulling effect – mostly on inhibitions.”

“Is that why I sounded like a blathering idiot last night?” Stephen asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Because, I swear, I’m usually far more eloquent. And not, you know, a rambling fool.”

Loki leaned forward slightly, smirking. “I don’t know. Your rambling was kind of cute.”

Stephen opened his mouth, then closed it. “I. . . don’t know how to respond to that.”

“Perhaps I can make a suggestion?” Loki offered. He took Stephen by surprise when he closed the distance between them with a soft kiss.

They pulled apart just barely, their noses touching. “That works,” Stephen said breathlessly. He kissed Loki again, harder this time. Lips still pressed to Loki’s, Stephen asked, “Are you still drunk?”

The Trickster pulled away, laying back on the pillow. “Hmm. I think I might be.”

Stephen’s diverted his eyes to the mattress, feeling his heart drop. Which was stupid. Right?

He felt Loki’s hand under his chin, making him look back up. Those icy eyes were more open and honest than Stephen had ever seen them, or had ever expected to see them. Breathtakingly, so, actually. “I said the magic lowers your inhibitions, Strange,” Loki reiterated. “It doesn’t make you do anything you don’t _want_ to do.”

They were both silent as the words settled between them. The Sorcerer Supreme wondered if Loki had seen the dejected look on his face and realized he probably should have been concerned that he had been so easy to read. But instead, Stephen only felt happy about the words Loki had said, and what they meant. So he allowed that stupid smile back on his face and didn’t bother covering it up. “What you’re really saying is that you wanted to jump my bones.”

Loki mock-gasped and rolled over on his back, laughing as he looked up at that ceiling. “ _You_ moved in on _me_ , Doctor.”

In a burst of confidence – or stupidity – Stephen moved so he was on top of Loki, straddling his hips. “You left me no choice, Your Highness,” he said, leaning down to kiss the god’s jaw.

“Whatever do you mean?” Loki asked innocently.

Stephen pulled away with a sharp inhale. “Oh, please. The innuendos, the stretching – the fucking _leather pants_?” He scoffed fondly. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Loki grinned, wrapping his arms around Stephen’s neck and pulling him down toward him. “And if I did?”

Stephen growled in the back of his throat, crashing their lips together. Loki tilted his head back to offer Stephen better access to his neck. The Sorcerer obliged, hungrily kissing and nipping down Loki’s throat.

Receiving a playful bite to his earlobe, the god sighed. “Mm. Stephen.”

The doctor pulled away, looking down at the god. “What?” Loki asked, panting and his face slightly flushed.

“I just don’t think you’ve ever actually used my first name before.” Stephen gave a crooked smile, liking the way his name sounded on that silver tongue.

Loki smirked in his typical manner. “Pretty sure I used it a few times last night.” Then he lifted up, licked the tip of Stephen’s nose, and shoved him off of him, quickly rolling to the other side of the mattress.

Stephen found himself on his back, not completely sure of what had just happened. He furrowed his brows and sat up, glancing over to where Loki was now standing beside the bed, draping the sheet around him like a toga.

“You’re like a cat.”

“Pardon?” Loki asked, gathering his hair into a pile on top of his head. When he let it fall, it was perfectly straight, but still hanging somewhat loose.

Stephen swung his legs over his own side of the bed. “Cuddly when you want to be, then when you’re done, it’s over.” He chuckled softly to make sure Loki knew his tone was light. There was no response and he turned, wondering if he’d offended the god. He was a little shocked to find that Loki was missing, but he was even more stunned to see a black cat with piercing emerald eyes sitting on the bed and staring at him.

“. . . Loki?” Stephen asked hesitantly. The cat marched forward, rubbing along the doctor’s arm and flicking him in the face with its tail. Cautiously, Stephen ran a hand along the cat’s spine. It stepped onto his lap, making Stephen gasp lightly when its nails pierced his thigh. “Okay, point taken.”

He blinked and fell backward on the bed with an _‘oof_.’ Loki was lying on top of him, back in his Æsir form, with a Cheshire grin plastered on his handsome face.

“Good thing I’m a cat person,” Stephen teased. Then, he and Loki both broke out laughing. Stephen wrapped his arms around Loki and pulled him tight to his chest. Loki buried his face in the Sorcerer’s neck, shaking with laughter. After a moment, when they finally pulled themselves together, Loki lifted himself up, looking very seriously at the doctor.

“You will tell no one that just happened. If you do, I’ll deny it.”

“What, that you have a sense of humor?” Stephen asked. “Or that you can be nice?”

Loki scoffed and moved to push himself off Stephen, only to be stopped by the Sorcerer’s arms around him. “There are lots of nice things about you,” Stephen whispered suggestively. He traced a hand down Loki’s spine, making him shudder softly.

“But _I_ am not nice,” Loki insisted.

“Sure,” Stephen agreed patronizingly. He gave the Trickster a peck on the lips. And before he pulled away, he knew. He felt it in his gut, in the fluttering of his heart, in every fiber of his being. . . he just _knew_ he was a goner. Whatever Loki had done in the past and even if he was planning to do something in the future, none of that mattered. Looking Loki in the eyes confirmed it. Stephen was falling, hard and fast, for the God of Mischief. It was like a trainwreck – you can see it coming but still be helpless to do anything to stop it. And honestly? Stephen wasn’t totally positive he’d stop it, even if he could.

Loki tilted his head to the side, clearly trying to figure out what was going on in the Sorcerer’s head. He looked like he was about to say something, when the bedroom door suddenly burst open. “Hey, Strange, you left your phone downstairs and it’s been going _crazy_. And what happened in the Library? It’s a mess and—”

Wong stopped halfway to the bed. His eyes were the size of saucers as he took in the sight before him.

“Wong!” Stephen exclaimed. He shoved Loki to the side and stood up. Then, realizing he wasn’t wearing any clothes, he quickly sat back down, wrapping the comforter back around him. Loki suddenly vanished, only to reappear on the other side of the room, fully dressed in his tunic and leggings.

Wong glanced from Stephen, to Loki, and back. A devilish grin broke out across the man’s face. “So,” he said slowly, turning to Loki. “You’re Thor’s brother?”

“Yes,” Loki answered. “Loki Odinson. Or Laufeyson. Or just Loki. . . I suppose.” He let his voice come to a sudden halt, realizing that now he was the one rambling.

“Well, uh, I’m Wong,” the other Sorcerer said, giving a little wave. Loki offered a tight-lipped nod.

Stephen conjured his clothes, which took longer than necessary since he wasn’t entirely sure where each article of clothing had been discarded. When he was dressed and only needed to pull his boots on, he stood up and threw his blanket back on the bed. “How, uh, how was Hong Kong, Wong?”

Loki snorted, amused by the awkward rhyme. Stephen shot him a glare. Wong smiled and looked to his Sorcerer Supreme. “Hong Kong was fine. Not as interesting as New York, it would seem.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “You said something about my phone?”

Wong pulled the device from his pocket and tossed it to Stephen. “Yeah, it was in the kitchen. You have about a million missed calls and texts.”

“Thanks.” Stephen gripped the phone tight and looked at Wong expectantly. “You can, you know, go. Now.”

“Oh, right,” Wong said. “I’ll just be downstairs. Ready whenever you are.” Wong backed up towards the door and just before he closed it, he peeked his head back in and, to Stephen, he said, “You’re a very beautiful couple.”

“Wong!” Stephen chucked a pillow at the door as it closed, muffling Wong’s laughter.

Sheepishly, the Sorcerer looked over to Loki and shrugged uncomfortably. “Sorry.”

Loki rocked back and forth on his heels, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, Stephen’s phone beeped and he groaned. “Hang on,” he said. He unlocked the phone and saw that Wong hadn’t been exaggerating about the outrageous number of messages. There were missed calls and voicemails from Sam Wilson, among other members of the Avengers. And countless texts, also from a host of heroes but mostly from Sam, Bucky, and Pepper.

Stephen clicked through the texts from Sam. “Fuck,” he muttered, dropping onto the bed.

“What?” Loki asked, taking a few steps forward.

Instead of answering, Stephen held up a finger. Then he dialed Sam and put the phone to his ear.

“ _Strange?_ ” Sam’s frantic voice answered on the first ring. That probably wasn’t a good thing.

“Hey,” Stephen said as casually as he could muster.

“ _You’re alive._ ”

“Um, yes?”

“ _And perfectly fine? No tragedies have occurred?_ ” Sam asked, panic starting to fade away.

“No, everything’s fine.”

“ _Okay, then maybe you can explain where the hell you’ve been for the last 14 hours?!_ ” Now, Sam’s voice was full-blown anger.

Stephen gestured to Loki as he headed for the door, stepping out into the hallway. “I was at the Sanctum. I still am, actually.” He hurried down the steps, trying to still sound collected. “Why? Did, uh, did something happen?”

Wilson laughed. Maybe it was more like a cackle. “ _Let’s just say it’s a good thing you’re a doctor._ ” He paused. “ _Actually, good thing you’re a_ surgeon _._ ”

“And why is that?” Stephen queried, genuinely curious about where Sam was going.

“ _Oh because Fury is going to flay us all alive and you’ll probably have to clean up the mess_.” Okay, that was macabre. And Wilson sounded way too calm about it. Which made Stephen worry that it was actually a very real possibility that they had all already discussed.

Stephen supported the phone with his shoulder as he snapped his fingers and adjusted his collar. Within seconds, the Cloak came zipping around the corner and settled onto the Sorcerer’s shoulders. He continued down the hallway, stopping at the top of the grand staircase. “What happened with Fury?”

Loki’s head snapped to attention at the mention of the Director. He mouthed the word ‘SHIELD?’ and Stephen instantly shook his head, but then paused and shrugged. Loki’s face paled.

“ _Gee, I don’t know, Strange. Just that Loki went missing, we couldn’t find you, and nobody knew if the world was in imminent danger?_ ”

Stephen groaned inwardly, but managed to bite his lip to keep the sound from escaping. The Cloak carried him down the stairs, earning an eye-roll from Loki. But the god simply teleported himself to the bottom, looking immensely proud of the fact that he beat Stephen anyway.

Wong entered the foyer, chewing the last of whatever his breakfast had been.

“Yeah, sorry, about that. My phone wasn’t working,” Stephen told Sam. Wong rolled his eyes, silently admonishing his best friend. “But I’m fine, and so is Loki. We’re both here, at the Sanctum.”

Sam was silent. Then he snorted. “ _Strange, are you telling me that you took Loki to the Sanctum, surrounded by all your weird magic voodoo shit?_ ”

That gave Stephen pause. He had never even considered that. He looked at Loki, who was innocently straightening out his tunic. He glanced up when he felt the Sorcerer’s eyes on him, raising an eyebrow questioningly. One look at him, and Strange shook away any suspicious thoughts. “It’s fine,” Stephen finally said. “Look, Wong is back now. We’re on our way – all three of us.”

“ _Fine. We’ll meet you in the lobby in just a minute,_ ” Sam stated firmly. “ _And Strange? I hope you can come up with a better explanation for Fury._ ” There was a pause, and Stephen heard some commotion in the background. Somewhat quietly, Sam added, “ _And Thor. . ._ ” Then the line went dead.

Stephen pocketed his phone and sighed. He tilted his head back and growled up toward the ceiling. When he looked back, Loki was talking to Wong.

“—I’m just saying, of all the rooms to downsize in this over-compensatory place, and the _kitchen_ is your choice?” Loki mumbled.

Wong held his hands up in defense. “Hey, I wasn’t the decorator! It was like that when we got here.”

Loki shook his head. “Word of warning?” he offered. “Feasts are among the highest priority in Asgard. Now, me? I care not. But I would recommend that you never let other Asgardians see that dismal excuse for a kitchen.” Wong nodded, taking the advice to heart.

Stephen huffed. “Um, if you two are done discussing interior design?”

“Sorry, boss,” Wong replied. But when he looked at his fellow Sorcerer and then Loki, he snickered softly.

Stephen could feel his cheeks burning. “Can we please just _go_?” he implored.

Wong slipped on his Sling Ring and conjured a portal, which showed the Compound on the other side. Stephen moved to step through the portal but Wong stopped him. He looked down at his friend.

“I take it we’ll just clean up the library when we get back, then?”

“I hate you.” Stephen seethed, shoving his giggling friend through the portal. He turned back to Loki with a stern look.

The Trickster nonchalantly stepped through the portal, followed closely by Stephen – who couldn’t help but feel like he was embarking on an execution march.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Carol walked into the Avengers Compound, cat kennel in hand. She set it down and popped the door open. “C’mon, Chewie,” she cooed. Chewie stepped out, stretching luxuriously.

“What are you doing?” Fury asked when he walked in behind her. “Put that thing back in there!”

“Aw, but he’s been all cramped up in the car!” Carol argued. She knew that Fury was in a sour mood but she simply couldn’t stop herself from busting his chops. Chewie wandered across the lobby, sniffing around. Carol was proud of herself for stifling her laughter at the look on Fury’s face.

“Carol!” a voice called from across the lobby. Carol spun around and smiled.

“PETER PARKER!” she hollered, running toward her friend. She pulled him into a hug that knocked the air out of him.

“Oh, wow,” he mumbled into her shoulder. “Hi,” he said when she finally let him go.

“How ya doin’, Peter Parker?” Carol asked, ruffling the boy’s hair. He shoved her hand away playfully.

“Better now that you’re here,” he told her with a sigh of relief.

“Tell me about it,” she responded. “I’ve been in a car with Fury for two hours.” A soft mew drew their attention to the ground. Carol pointed excitedly. “That’s Chewie!”

“Cute,” Peter told her. “Hi, Chewie,” he said, patting the animal’s head.

The pleasant moment quickly faded, as Sam rounded the corner with Bucky, Wanda, Scott, Rhodey, and Clint following him. And they were arguing.

Peter glanced backward and sighed. “Prepare yourself.”

Carol nodded. She stepped forward and smiled at Sam. “Looks like you guys forgot your pitchforks,” she teased.

“What?” Sam asked, stopping in his tracks. Then he shook his head and walked up to Fury, his phone in his hand. “Strange just called,” he announced with tremendous relief.

More footsteps sounded, getting closer to the lobby, followed by a loud boom of thunder outside.

“Oh, Thor’s here?” Carol asked, turning to Peter. He chuckled and nodded as Thor charged into the lobby with Valkyrie jogging along behind him.

Once everyone was gathered together in the center of the lobby, they all started talking at once. Outside, rain started to pour and the sky darkened. Carol and Peter stood back, with Chewie between them, eyes wide.

The Airforce Captain could only catch bits and pieces of the debate – mostly, more of the same of what Fury had been barking at her in the car:

“I told you, I heard from Strange. It’s all fine.”

“Yeah, fine as far as you know. . .”

“But what if it hadn’t been?!”

“How could you let Loki just wander around?”

“He’d just come back from the dead—"

“—and you didn’t think that was _suspicious_?”

“I hate to say I told ya so, but—”

“SHUT UP, CLINT!”

Suddenly, there was a particularly loud thunder-clap and the sky lit up with lightning. That made everybody fall silent. Thor, standing near the center of the group, took a deep breath. Then, he asked: “Where is Loki?”

Carol heard a sizzling sound and stepped aside when one of Strange’s portals appeared a few feet from her. As the portal closed, she found herself next to Master Wong. Two others stepped through the portal, one being Dr. Strange and another someone she didn’t know. That’s the person who spoke, answering Thor’s question.

“I’m here.”

Thor spun around. Upon seeing his brother, he pushed his way through the assembled Avengers, stopping a few feet away. He looked at Loki suspiciously. Then, he pulled one of his vambraces off his wrist and chucked it at Loki’s head.

Surprisingly, Loki just let it hit him. It clattered to the ground and Loki gave a small smile. He glanced out the windows, to the thunderstorm. When he looked back, he folded his arms over his chest. “A tad melodramatic – even for you. Don’t you think, Brother?”

Thor immediately brightened. And the weather outside joined him, with the rain coming to a sudden stop. A spark of electricity rang through the air, replacing Thor’s armor with jeans and a t-shirt. He strode forward a few steps, matched by Loki. Thor wasted no time engulfing his brother – who was roughly the same height, but significantly smaller in frame – into a bone-crushing hug.

“Thor,” Loki squeaked out, flailing as he tried to escape his brother’s grip. He fought it for a moment longer before giving up and going slack in Thor’s arms, finally wrapping his arms around the Thunderer in return.

When Thor unraveled from him, he still kept his hands on Loki’s shoulders, as if he was afraid he would disappear if he didn’t maintain physical contact. “I thought you were dead.”

“I was,” Loki told him somberly. Thor raised an eyebrow. “For real,” Loki added.

At that, Fury moved forward. “Hey, asshole. Remember me?”

Thor wheeled around. “When I last saw my brother eight years ago, he had fully redeemed himself, Director. He died a hero and was, and still is, a Prince of Asgard. You _will_ show him respect.”

“Thor,” Loki said softly, placing a hand on Thor’s giant forearm. Then he made eye contact with Fury. “I understand your lack of faith in me. I have already been granted far more liberties than I expected or deserved, by your Avengers.”

Carol looked at Sam and Clint, who both side-eyed each other and seemed slightly taken aback. She also noticed the smug grins from Bucky and Wanda. Then, she leaned over to whisper in her friend’s ear. “Peter Parker,” she said, drawing the young man’s focus. “Whose side are you on here?”

Peter looked at her curiously, then caught up. “Actually, I like Mr. Loki.” Carol looked at Peter and of course he looked like his usual, cordial self. But there was no mistaking a fire in his eyes when he glanced toward Sam.

“Damn,” she muttered. “Looks like I should have come a day early. I missed all the drama.”

“Not all of it,” Peter replied quietly.

Fury was still staring at Loki. Then he leaned around to look at Dr. Strange. “You,” he said, pointing a finger to the Sorcerer.

Strange straightened up. “Yes?” he inquired politely.

“You were tasked with monitoring Loki. Then you fell off the grid. Now that you’re back, I gotta ask: What the hell happened?”

Strange opened his mouth, but was cut off by Loki. “That would be my fault. We had supper, and then I insisted on a tour of the Sanctum. Purely for educational purposes, of course. It would seem that we lost track of time, and the good doctor was kind enough to offer me a place to stay.”

“And your phone wasn’t working, Doc?” Sam called, looking at Strange pointedly.

Strange looked somewhat flabbergasted. “Uh, right. Yeah. My phone. It was. . . off.”

“But you vouch for Loki?” Fury asked, somewhat incredulously.

At that, Strange stepped forward without hesitation. “Yes,” he confirmed. “As Thor stated, it seems as though Loki is quite reformed.”

“Enough,” Valkyrie’s voice cut through. She stomped forward, shoving past everyone – including Fury. She marched right up to Loki, standing a good head and a half or so shorter than him, and yet still managing to make everyone in the room cower. “Lackey,” she said sharply.

“Valkyrie,” Loki replied. They stared at each other for a moment before the Valkyrie cracked a small smile. She stretched out her arm and Loki returned the gesture. They clasped each other’s wrists and then pulled together, with their other hands landing on one another’s shoulders, finally putting their foreheads together.

It was one of the most intimate, warrior-like things Carol could remember seeing in a lifetime. More camaraderie than anything shared on Kree battlefields, and maybe even more so than in the Airforce. It almost felt like an intrusion, watching. So Carol averted her eyes.

When Val and Loki separated, the entire mood had changed. Maybe the Valkyrie’s display had impacted everyone.

“Loki is good. He’s alive, he’s here, and he is _staying_.” Valkyrie announced, staring up into Loki’s face. Then, she whirled around to face the others. “Anybody care to disagree?”

There were a few murmurs of “no” and “nah” but mostly just heads shaking. Even Fury shook his head, sighing and throwing his hands in the air.

Thor clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We have much to talk about.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Loki replied with a groan. But Thor only laughed, pulling Loki close and starting to haul him away.

They were stopped by the sound of a whistle. Thor looked to the stairs behind Carol with a huge smile. “Rabbit!” he hollered as he rushed forward, apparently deciding that his brother would be fine while he went to greet his best friend.

Loki turned to look at the reunion, joined by the two Sorcerers. He leaned toward Strange and pointed to Rocket. “My brother does know that’s a _raccoon_ , right?”

Carol found herself laughing at that. Loki glanced over, noticing her for the first time. She silenced instantly, slightly taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. Loki was attractive, sure, but it was also obvious how powerful he was. Carol could see why Fury had been so worried, but she also saw what Valkyrie and some of the others had obviously seen: Potential.

Peter waved, which resulted in Loki coming over. Valkyrie came too, seemingly tethered to his side.

“Hello, Arachnid,” Loki said with a half-smile.

Peter smiled back. “This,” he said as he pointed to Carol, “is Captain Marvel.”

“Carol Danvers,” she said, giving Pete a good-natured elbow in the side.

Loki looked her up and down, his face neutral. “You’re not human.”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Carol quipped.

After a half-second, Loki smiled. “I think I’ll like you,” he finally said.

“Thanks?” Carol responded, narrowing her eyes at him, but smiling. As a show of good will, she said, “And you’re right. I’m half-Kree.”

“Ah,” Loki said. “Not naturally, though, it seems?” He clasped his hands behind his back, embodying the royalty that he was.

“Loki!” Thor called. “You have to meet Rabbit!”

“Oh, we’ve already met,” Rocket said mischievously.

Loki sighed and turned to join them, only to find that they were already on their way over. Rocket stepped right up to Loki with a dangerous look in his eyes. He took a deep breath, to speak, but then stopped. He snapped his head toward Strange. Rocket leaned forward, sniffing like mad in Strange’s direction.

“What are you doing?” the doctor asked.

Rocket looked up at the Sorcerer with suspicion. “You smell like sex.”

Wong stifled a laugh and, before Strange could say or do anything, the other Sorcerer was stalking away, heading toward the temporary living areas. Carol decided to follow Wong, looking forward to getting some good gossip. She started after him but stopped suddenly, remembering Chewie. She looked down, only to find that he was winding himself around Loki’s boots.

“Sorry,” Carol said, coming up beside the god and reaching for Chewie. But Loki beat her to it. He picked him up, stroking the animal’s back fondly.

Thor and the others were heading off. So Loki handed Chewie over to Carol with a grin. “Nice Flerken,” he told her before walking away.

Rocket looked back with wide eyes. “That’s a Flerken?” he shouted. “Get that thing out of here before it lays eggs!” the raccoon hollered before Thor dragged him around the corner.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me, Danvers?” Fury exclaimed.

Carol laughed nervously, clutching Chewie tighter. She started speed-walking out of the lobby, when Sam called her name. “So close,” she whispered. “Go find us a room, Chewie,” she told the Flerken, setting him down. He sashayed away as Carol turned and made her way back to the others.

“What’s up?” she asked Sam once she reached him.

“You up for a mission?” he asked. To which, Carol nodded enthusiastically. “Scott, go get Nebula,” Sam commanded. “Then meet Carol and Wanda in the garage.”

Scott hurried to the stairs as Wanda stepped forward, grabbing Carol by the arm and steering her down the hall.

“So, what’ve we got going on?” Carol asked as they walked.

“We’ve got a vigilante,” Sam told her. “FRIDAY just tracked the energy signature – looks like the individual is at a mall in New York state.”

“Cool.” Carol shrugged. Sounded easy enough.

“There is one other thing,” Bucky added.

“There always is.” Carol looked at the Winter Soldier expectantly.

“This guy you’re going after? He’s using Tony’s tech.”

“Well, that’s a twist,” Carol admitted. “Let’s go see what the deal is.” And with that, she and Wanda headed off to the garage, to meet the other half of their team and head out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave nice words of encouragement and praise – I shall need that while I am off at my Doctoral Residency in the next week-ish (Also, I tried to pack this chapter with a lot of good stuff to hold y’all over, bc I’m guessing there’ll be a slight delay on the next chapter due to my Residency). I love you people and want to squish your faces! (If that’s cool with you, that is).
> 
> Until next time,  
> Doc


	6. Famous last words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor & Loki have a heart-to-heart; the Wakandans arrive & Shuri has a delivery for Morgan; the assembled Avengers enjoy a lunch; & Carol and the team are confronted by a bearer of bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M STILL ALIVE! Sorry for the long absence, loves. I finished my first Doctoral Residency successfully, and life has been non-stop since then. Hoping to be able to get back into regular postings soon, but not making any promises (your words of encouragement have been amazing, though, and I appreciate all of you sticking with me and this story). To make up for making y’all wait, here’s a bit of a longer chapter (mostly bc Thor & Loki would not shut up). Enjoy, leave me love, and know that I think you’re phenomenal humans. <3
> 
> Chapter warning: Some mentions of torture. Not too, too much - mostly allusions and a few semi-graphic (maybe?) references.

Walking down the hallway with Valkyrie and Thor on either side of him filled Loki with a sense of nostalgia; an oddly familiar feeling, as if they had traveled back in time. And yet, somehow, it also felt like something completely new and different. The fact that he was in the Avengers Compound only made things stranger.

And speaking of _strange_. . .

Loki purposely kept his gaze dead-ahead, fully aware of the Sorcerer just steps behind him. He could feel the warmth of Strange’s magic, like it was reaching out to him and tugging, trying to pull him close and wrap itself up in him. And it would be too easy to give in to that pull, to cover himself not just because of the mystic energy, but the very magic that is Stephen Strange. Fortifying himself, Loki inhaled deeply and held his head up, determined _not_ to look back at the mortal.

Vaguely, Loki recalled one of his countless lessons in magic with his mother – something from his youth, centuries ago. . . She had told him that some kinds of seiðr and other magics were attracted to each other; that magic is sentient and has wants, which can be channeled through its user; that some beings can be bonded to one another, with magical energy functioning in a capacity similar to animalistic pheromones. It was a primitive and not terribly elegant comparison, but that made it no less accurate. The complexity of magic bonds remained a mystery to even the most skilled sorcerers and seiðrmen. Loki had never experienced it himself and had only heard a handful of stories from others.

But the facts, the _feelings_ were undeniable – Loki’s seiðr and Strange’s magic had longed for one another, intermingling beautifully and pulling the men to each other like magnets. They slotted together, discovering that they fit perfectly. There was a thread between them, connecting them, and it carried profound implications. It influenced their actions, their very thoughts about and toward each other. Of course, Loki had been telling the truth when he told Strange that the magic didn’t make them do anything they didn’t want to do; rather, it made them aware of the fact that they wanted it, then gave them the shove they needed to act. It was a kind of magical proclamation – for all intents and purposes, Loki’s seiðr had thwacked him in the side of the head and said, “This one’s good; we should keep him.” And based on the way his seiðr interacted with Strange’s energy, it was obvious that the other man’s magic had done the same thing. Loki knew that Strange felt it – saw it in his eyes that morning in the bedroom, and it looked like he was giving into it, accepting it. Whether that was willful or even something the mortal was aware of was yet to be seen. Loki, however, was choosing to reside in a state of denial for as long as he possibly could.

Thor led them to a door, where they halted. He opened the door, revealing a lounge. From the rear of their troupe, Rocket cleared his throat. Everyone turned to focus their attention on the rodent.

“So,” Rocket said to Strange. “Who’s the dame?”

“Sorry?” Strange queried innocently.

Rocket scoffed. “Oh please. You’ve got the stank of lust all over you.” He waved a paw in front of his nose, then smiled slyly. “Again, I ask: Who’s the chick?”

“There is no ‘chick,’ Rocket.” Strange folded his arms across his chest and looked down at the creature. Rocket raised an eyebrow and tapped a foot on the floor, expectantly. The Sorcerer sighed. “Rocket. Listen to me very carefully: There is no _girl_.”

Rocket watched him intently, processing the information. Then, he gave a half-smile and licked his lips. “Okay,” the raccoon said slowly. “Who’s the guy, then?”

Loki’s eyes widened and he glanced toward the doctor. Strange let out a groan, attempting to appear annoyed. But he tugged nervously, unconsciously, at his collar. He opened his mouth, then closed it, likely trying to come up with some biting remark that would stop the conversation. The harder he tried, the more words seemed to evade him. And the longer he stayed silent, struggling to speak, Rocket’s cocky smile grew wider.

“I’m not judgin’ – you gotta do what feels right for you, ya know?” Rocket ticked off a list on his claws: “Guy, girl, android, alien life form, genetic mutation. . . whatever gets your motor runnin’, right?” He jabbed Thor’s calf with his elbow, looking up at his friend for support. “Back me up here, big guy!”

Despite the secondhand embarrassment that Loki _should_ have been feeling, he couldn’t help being amused at Strange’s expense. Attempting to maintain a level of decorum, Loki put one arm across his chest and used it to prop up his other arm, holding his hand over his face to cover up his grin. Watching the Sorcerer’s face flush was hilarious and even endearing. And the second that thought entered his mind, Loki’s stomach start flip-flopping and he hated himself. Denial would be so much easier if not for his traitorous body. . .

With a lighthearted laugh, Thor patted Rocket on the head. “Rabbit, enough. Let the man have his privacy.”

Rocket looked up at the god, unconvinced, but sighed. “Fine, fine.” Then, he looked at Strange pointedly as he stuffed his paws in his pockets. “I gotta say, though: It’s about damn time you got some, Doc.”

“What?” The doctor managed to choke out.

Valkyrie slinked forward, bumping his hip with her own. “Yeah, I was starting to wonder about you, Wizard. Thought maybe you were some kind of eunuch or something.”

 _Hardly_ , Loki thought. And with that, he lost it; he simply couldn’t contain himself any longer and he snorted out a laugh. Literally, _snorted –_ rather unattractively, by his own standards. He glanced down, avoiding the human’s gaze. His fellow Asgardians also snickered, probably for different reasons, and even Strange played along with a pained chuckle.

“Okay, are we done speculating about my sex life now?” Strange asked, struggling not to appear irate.

Thor gave a hearty laugh as he slapped the Sorcerer Supreme on the shoulder. “All in jest, my friend!” Then, he leaned in and quietly added, “Although, if you do have any dirty details that you _wanted_ to share, we could certainly do so over a pint later. . .”

At that, Loki was certain he threw up a little in his mouth, and he promptly started choking. Thor looked to the Trickster with concern. “Are you all right, Brother?”

“Huh?” Loki gasped. “Yes, I’m all right,” he said, his voice somewhat hoarse. He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t concern yourself. I’m fine.”

Thor shrugged and entered the lounge area. When Loki looked at Strange, he saw that the man had his face to the ground, but his gray eyes flicked up to meet Loki’s gaze. Strange’s cheeks were still tinted pink, but he offered a coy smile, which Loki returned with a small nod before turning away to hide the color that was blooming in his own cheeks. He had always enjoyed keeping secrets from his brother, but there was a newfound excitement about sharing a secret with someone else. Especially when that someone was a mortal who was actually interesting and attractive (in multiple ways), like Strange. But Loki pushed those thoughts aside, for they were too close to a path that led to things like emotions and vulnerability and honesty – precious commodities that Loki couldn’t just _give_ away.

Once in the lounge, Thor sighed. “Friends, I apologize,” he announced. “I must speak to my brother alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Valkyrie proclaimed. She leaned against the doorway.

“Brunnhilde.” Thor’s voice was stern. Grumbling, Valkyrie straightened up and stomped out into the hallway.

“You’re kickin’ me out, too?” Rocket asked, shocked. Thor nodded and stared him down. Finally, Rocket let out a growl and stalked to the door. He was mumbling under his breath as he left: “I have better things to do anyway – like finding out how much Flerken eggs sell for on the black market. . .”

When Thor turned to Strange, the doctor seemed all too eager to leave. He gave a curt nod and bowed out of the room without a word. Loki told himself that his heart didn’t sink a little that Strange didn’t even spare him a goodbye glance.

Thor gestured to the assortment of chairs in the room. “Shall we?”

This was the moment Loki had been dreading. He had absolutely no desire to talk about the details of what took place while he was presumed dead.

He had spent almost five months making his way back to Midgard. Then, another two months wandering across America, lying low in various cities and towns while he regained his strength. He mostly stayed in seedy motels and watched shitty – or, on rare occasions, not-so-shitty – Netflix. After a total of seven months, his seiðr had regenerated, which allowed his body to recover almost completely from the years of beatings, mutilation, and torment. The emotional and psychological wounds still remained, of course – and they would for some time, assuredly, but at least the physical proof was no longer evident.

Eight years as a captive.

Seven months since he had been released from the Chitauri prison.

And it had taken Loki that whole time to steel his nerves enough to return to the only notion of home he had ever known: Thor.

Of course, he knew that's where he would wind up eventually. It wasn't like Loki had any other options. In all honesty (though he'd never say this out loud), he even _wanted_ to see Thor.

He’d just needed to work up the nerve to actually do it.

Loki knew his brother. It was no surprise that Thor had been glad to see him, glad to learn he's alive. Loki had anticipated Thor welcoming him and willingly giving him another chance – like he always did. There was the tiniest twinge of guilt about using Thor's kind heart to his advantage. One day, he was sure, he would push it too far. But not yet.

The Trickster had come back from the dead before, so of course that wasn’t really a great feat. And their final days together – on Sakaar, and uniting against Hela – had mended the rift between them. All the centuries of bitterness, lies, and competition had melted away. When they finally stopped bringing out the worst in each other, they found that they each had strengths that benefitted the other. Despite what they'd been fooled into thinking by others, they both had _worth_ and could be stronger together.

Yet, for all the progress they had made, it was their newly rekindled brotherhood that had kept Loki from reuniting with Thor sooner. Because he knew that they would wind up in the exact situation they were in right now. . . Thor would ask questions. The God of Thunder would expect answers about Loki's whereabouts. Just as the Avengers had asked him to explain himself, so, too, would Thor. Only, Thor wouldn't accept vague half-truths or platitudes. Nor would he understand Loki's desire - no, _need_ \- for privacy.

“Brother,” Thor said, pulling Loki from his reverie. He sat down on a couch, leaning back. Loki finally noticed how tired and worn Asgard’s golden son looked.

Keeping some distance from his brother, Loki settled onto the nook in the window, pulling a leg up and wrapping his arm around it as he rested his chin on his knee. “You’re still wearing your hair short, I see.”

Thor chuckled. “It grew and I wore it long for a while, when I got really—” He stopped, frowned, shook his head. Apparently, whatever he’d been about to say, he decided against it. “I decided to cut it again. Felt right.” Thor shrugged, rubbing his hands anxiously on his thighs. After a moment, he spoke in a quiet voice: “I lost the lock you gave me.”

Loki didn’t like the sensitive turn of the conversation. He gulped awkwardly and decided to just do what was expected of him, maintaining the status quo with a teasing barb. “Your eyes are mismatched.”

Now, Thor smiled at him. But it was an odd kind of smile – gentle and sad, full of anguish that spoke of a weight the Asgardian had been carrying. It made Loki’s heart ache and he softened. Silently, he reached up and gathered a few strands of his hair. He ran his fingers through it and started braiding. “What have you seen these past years to leave you so haunted, Brother?”

“What do you mean?” Thor posited.

Loki licked his lips. If he was going to dive into a heart-to-heart, he might as well take control of the narrative. “Remember when we used to fight side-by-side on the battlefields, usually in Odin’s name, for some godsforsaken cause that the Allfather had commissioned?”

Thor nodded. “Aye, I do. We were an unbeatable team in our younger years.” He smiled fondly at the memory.

“We were fighting different evils,” Loki told him with a sigh.

Thor looked at him quizzically. “Were we not in the same battles?”

Loki clicked his tongue. “The same battles, yes. But a different war.” The blond appeared truly confused and Loki struggled to organize his thoughts into words. For he knew all too well that he was, and always would be, Thor's mirror-image. Regardless of their amity, they were destined to represent the duality of the universe. It was apparent even in their visages: Loki's pale skin to Thor's sun-kissed glow; the raven-haired fallen prince alongside the fair-haired would-be king; cunning and manipulative, to guileless and open; the darkness to the light.

Finally, Loki said: “All our lives, I bore the weight of the world. Usually, it was my own doing or even my own imagination. But when it was real, it was, I think, so that you would not have to.” Loki let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Perhaps that was the one thing I did that you could not. The one thing I did right by you.”

“Loki—"

The Trickster held up a hand. “Please.” He looked into his brother’s dual-toned eyes with a heavy heart. “You always amazed me, Thor. Did you know that? I think that’s why I hated you. No matter how much war or death or destruction we saw; even when you experienced loss or, further still, when you had been the perpetrator of violence upon others – you still _hoped_.” The last word caught in Loki’s throat, rubbed it raw.

“You never saw the utter cruelty of it all, the underbelly of existence.” Loki reached the end of the braid and tied it off. He conjured a bead to secure the end of it. Then, using his seiðr, he dashed a fingernail at the top, cutting the braided lock from his scalp. He held it in his hands as he looked out the window. “I thank the Norns that you have not suffered as I have, Thor.” He turned to meet his brother’s gaze again. “You were given a tremendous gift, the kind that gives to others as well as yourself.”

“And what, pray tell, might that be?” Thor questioned as he sank back into the couch.

Loki smiled – one of his rare genuine ones. “You believe in goodness, Thor. _You_ are good.” He exhaled softly, looking down. “You still think there’s goodness to be had, out there,” Loki jerked his head toward the window, to the world outside.

“Is there not goodness, Loki?” Thor asked, standing and crossing the room. He stopped next to the window seat. “Are there no good beings? No promise of a better, brighter tomorrow?”

Loki chuckled dimly and looked down. “Perhaps, Brother.” Then, he looked back up, locking eyes with the Thunderer. “And whether there is or isn’t, you believe in it. And because you believe it – Norns help me, there are times when I think you might actually be able to create such a world.”

Thor sighed heavily and sat in the window seat, at Loki’s feet. He put a hand on his brother’s knee. “There’s nothing wrong with having hope, Loki.”

Loki’s lip quirked up at the corner and he gave his brother a look of rebuke. “Hope is a most dangerous thing. A weapon, even, in the hands of those who know how to wield it.”

“What could be wrong about hoping?” Thor asked, shaking his head.

As a good Socratic orator, Loki responded with another question: “When you find yourself at the bottom of the deepest, darkest hole, with no way out, is it better to accept your fate or to further torment yourself by clinging to the _hope_ of a miracle is unlikely to ever come?”

“Unlikely, but not impossible,” Thor noted.

Loki stretched out his hand, the braided lock lying flat on his palm. Thor smiled and took it from him, clutching it in his fist. With a sigh, Loki pulled his other leg up onto the seat and wrapped his arms around both legs, making his body small. “If someone wants to harm you, he need only dangle hope in front of you. It makes you weak, vulnerable. It shows your weaknesses, makes you willing to give into things you wouldn’t otherwise deign to do.”

Thor looked down at the braid of hair thoughtfully, twirling it between his fingers. “I believed you were dead this whole time,” Thor said. The abrupt veer in conversation jarred Loki for a moment. But he didn’t exactly know what to say and was curious to see where the God of Thunder was going with this train of thought.

Thor squeezed Loki’s knee. “I thought you were dead, because I knew what I had seen,” he repeated. “But I can’t say that I truly _believed_ it, because I knew that I didn’t want it to be true.” Surely, he must have known that Loki had caught onto the moral of his little parable by now, but the blond verbalized it anyway. “I had _hope_ , Loki. Hope that you were still out there, that we would find our way back to each other.”

Loki pretended to gag, rotating so he was sitting with his back to the window and his feet were planted on the floor. “Oh, do shut up,” he chastised. “Keep saying rot like that and the rumor that we’re lovers will start up again.”

There was a pause. Then they both laughed. Somewhat nervously at first, but then it grew into real, full, belly laughter, leaving them breathless. Thor leaned his head back against the window and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, that made for some uncomfortable glances and whispers. And the more we tried to explain it, the less others believed us!”

“Especially considering we always shared a tent on hunts and in battles,” Loki reminded him, making his brother crack up again.

Thor wiped his eyes, which were tearing up from laughing so hard. “And then, just when all of Asgard stopped thinking I slept with my brother,” he managed to say through his chuckles, “you decided to torment me by spending the next century as my _sister_!”

Loki threw his head back and all but cackled. “You should have seen your face when I approached you for the first time in that pub. . .” Loki’s eyes twinkled with remembrance.

“And shamelessly flirted with me!” Thor accused.

Loki merely raised an eyebrow. “I just wanted to watch you squirm. And if I recall, you didn’t seem to mind it,” he said, making his brother sputter.

“I’ll have you know,” Thor said, just as defensively as he had hundreds of years ago. “I was very drunk that night. And had never actually _seen_ your female form before that.”

“But _oh_ , how you liked what you saw.” Loki wiggled his shoulders and flipped his hair.

“That was certainly my least favorite of your tricks,” Thor told him with a scowl.

Looking at Thor from a profile view, Loki leaned forward slightly. He tilted his chin into his shoulder and struck a seductive pose. “It’s not my fault I’m devastatingly beautiful, Brother.”

Thor reached forward and punched Loki’s shoulder playfully. “ _You_ are not. Lady Loki is.”

Waving his hand dismissively, Loki said, “We’re one in the same, you know.”

His brother only rolled his eyes and leaned back with a sigh. After a good minute or so, Thor hesitantly broke the comfortable silence. “How _did_ you survive?” His eyes – one his own blue as the sky, the other goldenrod like Heimdall’s – flicked up to meet Loki’s gaze. “I watched you die, Loki. And it wasn’t like the other times. I could. . .” he gulped. “I could _feel_ that life had left you. I knew it was real. Or at least I thought I did.” His voice wavered with doubt.

Loki tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “You were right. It was real – I was actually dead,” he confessed.

Thor furrowed his sandy brows. “So how did you—”

“Thanos,” Loki hated that he still felt himself choke on the name, “killed me.” Unconsciously, Loki brought a hand up to his neck. The imprints and bruises from the Mad Titan’s massive hand had long since faded, of course; yet, somehow, Loki could still feel those fingers around his throat, squeezing and tightening and crushing his windpipe, leaving him gasping for breath until everything went black and was just. . . _gone_.

“I can still see you,” Thor whispered hauntingly. “Lying there on the floor of the ship.”

Loki swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath – then, he exhaled and inhaled again, simply because he _could_ , because he had air in his lungs and that was something he had taken for granted in the past. “When you and the others had left, Thanos and his Dark Order came back to pillage through the remains. They took anything they could get their hands on, anything they thought might be useful.”

“Including you,” Thor finished. To which Loki merely nodded.

“I awoke in a holding area aboard Thanos’s ship. He was there – he already had several Infinity Stones at his disposal. Using them to resurrect me was child’s play.” Loki closed his eyes, remembering the dark and dank place where he woke up, still gasping and trying to breathe, with Thanos watching him through bars – wearing that sinister smile.

“Why did he kill you, just to bring you back?” Thor asked, frowning.

Loki paused, taking in a deep breath. “After I fell from the Bifröst, when I finally reached the bottom of the Void, Thanos was there. And from that moment, I was merely his pawn.”

Thor frowned at him. “We all know— _I_ know, that you were not acting of your own volition. That it was only your strength that allowed you to resist the Mad Titan even a little bit.” Thor scratched his head absently. “No one really blames you, anymore.”

“I know,” Loki smiled sadly and closed his eyes. “But Thanos did. I had betrayed him, humiliated him.” Loki focused his attention back on Thor, trying to keep his mind out of that dark prison. “I needed to pay for my treason and my transgressions.” Loki locked eyes with his brother, his expression stony. “He wanted to make an example of me.”

There was a part of Loki that thought maybe Thor would leave it at that. But, of course, that wasn’t the case. Thor steeled himself as he asked, “What happened, Loki? What’s been happening to you, all this time?”

Instantly, Loki shook his head. He bit his lip so hard, he thought it might bleed, still shaking his head with fervor. “I cannot, Thor. There are. . . no words, in any language—even for a tongue so skilled as mine—that can truly describe what they did. What I felt. How I still feel.”

“They?” Thor queried.

Loki had to laugh. “Assuredly, you didn’t think Thanos would be my personal jailer?” Despite his best efforts, rage bubbled up inside of Loki. It started to seep out. “Oh, he participated when he could. But ultimately, he had far more pressing matters than dealing with the insolence of a traitorous failure of a Frost Giant. No, my punishment was left to the capable hands of the Chitauri – and they are at the top of the line when it comes to torture.”

Thor cringed at that final word. Loki pushed himself to his feet and took a few steps forward before spinning around to face his brother. He gestured toward him with an open hand. “You can’t even bear the thought of me being tortured, to hear me say the word. Do you honestly think you’ve got the stomach for all the gritty and gory details?” Loki paused and Thor almost looked like he was going to speak. But he hesitated and Loki took the opportunity to illustrate his meaning.

"Do you _really_ want me to recount the ways in which the Chitauri made me suffer? How they sated their innate curiosity by conducting experiments? They leapt at every opportunity to determine what would happen to me and how long I would bleed if they chopped off this limb," he raised a hand, "or if they ripped out that organ," he pointed in the general area of his kidneys.

A mirthless laugh escaped Loki's throat. "Do you know how long I can remain submerged underwater before my lungs fill and burst, Thor? _Because the Chitauri do_ ,” he finished darkly.

Thor stared at him, a series of emotions racing across his face. Loki was panting and his face felt hot. He looked down and saw that his hands were shaking, wisps of green seiðr swirling at his fingertips. He wrapped his arms tightly around his body, trying to steady them as much as to conceal them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. When he looked at Thor again, it was with a much cooler head. For some reason, that seemed to concern his brother.

Thor looked down at the ground, shaking his head disconcertedly. "You're different," he said in a quiet voice.

"Different how?" Loki asked, curious.

"Not so quick to anger. So. . . volatile."

Loki frowned. "Is that not a good thing?"

It seemed as though Thor was actually uncertain, mulling that over and trying to decide. Finally, he sighed and stood, stepping into Loki's space as he put a hand on his shoulder. "If you have found peace then I am glad." He offered a sad little smile. "But I would hate to think that you had lost your spark. That you had—" Thor paused, hesitantly. At Loki's raised eyebrow, he continued: "That your spirit had been broken."

Instantly, Loki's temper flared back up – albeit, more irritated now than genuinely angry. "What am I, some prized stallion?" He took a few paces back, trying to gain some upper ground. "You have known me for how many centuries and yet you think me so easily _broken_?" He spat the word back at his brother.

Thor's eyes widened. Then he slowly started to smile. He reached forward, grabbing Loki by the front of his tunic and pulling him towards him, wrapping him in a firm hug. "There’s the Mischief Maker I’ve always known!” He forced joviality into his voice, very clearly trying to lighten the mood.

"Stop it," Loki growled into Thor's chest. Without waiting for a response, the Trickster vanished himself out of his brother's grasp, reappearing on the other side of the room - making sure to put plenty of furniture between himself and his very handsy brother. He glared at the blond, although he couldn’t deny the swell of affection and appreciation that he felt. The best way to show it, he decided, was to return to their status quo. He flicked a dismissive hand toward his brother and told him, "I should stab you. On principle, of course."

Thor put his hands on his hips and gave Loki a stern but playful look. "That hardly seems like something the new, reformed, _good_ Loki ought to do."

Loki groaned and stomped his foot. "Being good is so _boring_. It's exhausting." He leaned his palms on the back of the sofa. "I don't know how you do it. Or why."

"It's not as lonely," Thor said plainly. He was still smiling, but there was a somber truth to his words.

Loki scrunched up his nose, feigning disgust. But he made sure to catch Thor's gaze and offer a tight nod, so he'd know that he’d been teasing and his reformation really wasn’t an act.

"About what happened to you. . ." Thor started slowly.

Loki held a hand up. "No." He shook his head fiercely. "It is not worth talking about any further."

His brother furrowed his brows and was silent a moment. Finally, he shrugged in defeat and straightened up. "If you change your mind—"

"I won't."

"But if you do," Thor said firmly. He didn't say anything more. They both knew what he was offering.

"All right," Loki told him softly. It was more of a placeholder than anything. The conversation had ended. They'd both said all they needed, and were willing, to say. So, they just stood in silence until Loki cleared his throat. "Have we waited long enough?"

Thor cocked his head to the side. Loki sighed. "How long is customary to wait in awkward silence before we can leave and pretend nothing happened?"

"Ah." Thor brushed his hands together in the air, as if dusting them off – an act of finality. "I believe it's lunchtime." He grinned and headed for the door.

Loki raised an eyebrow. When Thor only looked at him questioningly, he elaborated. “You do know that your clothes are ridiculous?”

Thor rolled his eyes. Before he could say anything else, Loki snickered. “Look at that – when you roll your eyes, the golden one moves slower than the blue one.”

His brother gaped at him, looking truly offended. “Does not!”

“Mm,” Loki hummed. With a smile, a shimmer of gold covered him and in the next instant he vanished, reappearing at Thor’s side and straightening out his new outfit. He was wearing black, fitted jeans and a long-sleeved, emerald green shirt. Thor looked him up and down, giving a nod of approval before he chuckled and started for the door.

Suddenly Thor stopped with a soft gasp, looking to his brother as he said, “I’ll have to introduce you to Stormbreaker.” Loki raised his dark eyebrows and Thor’s smile grew wider. “She’s my new axe.”

“She? Your. . . axe?” Loki curled his lip incredulously. In response, Thor merely led them out of the room and down the hallway. Loki knew he was out of his league, as he was about to be in the company of more Avengers than he'd ever been around before. So he mustered up as much confidence as he could, hoping that would be enough – he was a master of illusions, after all.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

As they descended the ramp of the Wakandan ship, Shuri suddenly stopped and let out a soft groan. T'Challa and Okoye both turned to look back – her brother with slightly amused curiosity, and the warrior with intensity showing that she was ready to defend the Princess if needed. Shuri smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she said. "I forgot, I brought some scrap metal and a few other things for Morgan."

Okoye furrowed her brows. "So? We will be here for several days."

"Yes, I know." Shuri gestured vaguely toward one of the outer buildings. "But it would be best to unload things now, when I can drop them off in the garages for her."

Okoye inhaled, then exhaled sharply, looking like she wanted to protest. But T'Challa laughed softly, waving his hand. "Go on, then," he said. "But come find us the moment you are done."

"Of course!" She beamed back at him before turning and running up the ramp. Once she was back inside the aircraft, Shuri made her way over to a window and peeked out, watching her brother and their advisor until they were inside the front doors of the Compound. She saw them being greeted by a few of the Avengers – Colonel Rhodes and Dr. Banner, from what she could tell, although it looked like there was a third person that she couldn't quite make out. In any case, once Suri was certain that they were properly distracted, she breathed a sigh of relief and headed to the cargo hold.

Luckily, they were traveling light, so the hold was not as cramped as it could have been. Shuri quickly found the long, large box – which had originally stored some missiles – that she had managed to fit everything inside. It was a rather crude rigging, but it was all she could come up with on short notice and without arousing suspicion. She pulled a wheeled cart over and attached a couple straps to hoist the box onto the cart. Then she returned to the passenger compartment of the ship, collecting her laptop and carry-on bag.

Shuri speed-walked back to the cargo area, tossing her computer and bag on top of the box with a loud thud. She winced and mumbled, "Oops," out of common decency. Shuri pushed the cart forward, stopping only to reach her hand up and slap the button on the wall, opening the bay doors of the hold. She had to brace herself as she pushed the cart down the steep incline of the ramp, off the aircraft and onto the pavement. With a confident smile, she exhaled and then took off across the empty lot, steering the cart along the external buildings.

It was a long haul to the small shack at the edge of the Compound. When Shuri finally made it, she was glistening – because Princesses do _not_ sweat – and panting. With one final grunt of exertion, Shuri managed to get the cart around the side of the hut, stopping at the small staircase that led to the fortified cellar that was Morgan Stark's 'secret' lab. It wasn't _really_ that secret, considering several people knew where it was. Shuri even knew how to get in and was pretty sure others did too – since Morgan uses the same pass-code for everything (and it's not like it’s difficult to guess, anyway).

She'd brought this up to the girl on multiple occasions, but it always fell on deaf ears. Shuri knew the same thing Morgan herself knew: That Morgan was brilliant, so if anyone knew where the girl's lab was, it's because she allowed them to know. And even if someone did manage to get in by figuring out that the access code is just 3-0-0-0, Morgan had likely taken the necessary precautions to safeguard data so getting into the lab wouldn't actually result in anything.

Shuri smiled to herself, never ceasing to be amazed at how impressive the girl's mind was. Eerily so at times, in fact. With that, Shuri punched in the four digit code and bounced the cart down the steps, grimacing as she did.

Once the items were secured inside the lab and Shuri saw that Morgan was not present, she headed back out, sealing the door behind her. Straightening out her shirt and brushing some stray braids to the side, Shuri put her shoulders back and marched back toward the main building to catch up to T'Challa and Okoye. As she walked, she focused on pushing aside her giddiness about when she would return to the lab with Morgan later – she didn’t like the idea of getting her hopes up, but she had checked the data Morgan sent her at least five times and came to the same conclusion. For now, she was choosing to be cautiously optimistic and would address everything in more detail with the little engineer after lunch.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

The lunch room/cafeteria/mess hall/what-have-you was abuzz with conversation. It reminded Loki of a far less formal version of one of the great halls in Asgard, clearly crafted with the intention of housing many people and offering various seating arrangements. There were several tables – a few large round ones, a handful that were smaller and square-shaped, and a couple long tables that were especially reminiscent of those used for feasting.

Loki sat down on the bench-seat with Thor and Valkyrie across from him. It wasn’t long before they were joined by others. Bruce sat next to Thor and was quickly engulfed in a tight hug. Sergeant Barnes surprised Loki by sitting down right beside him with a smile. Rocket and Groot made their way over, along with a man who introduced himself as Star-Lord – only to have Thor correct him with his given name of Peter Quill. Loki learned that Thor had spent a fair amount of time in recent years traveling through space with Quill and his rag-tag group.

“I traveled with the Guardians, partaking in several adventures,” Thor had explained.

“On _my_ ship, where _I_ was the captain,” Quill hurriedly proclaimed.

“It was a joint effort,” Thor offered, patronizingly.

Quill scrunched up his nose. “Ehhhhh,” he squeaked. “If by ‘joint,’ you mean that I was in charge and made the important decisions, which the rest of you carried out, then yeah.”

That, of course, led to Thor and Quill arguing at length about which of them had actually been in charge during their time aboard the _Benatar_.

“I am Groot,” (“ _I have to wonder,_ ”) Groot started, drawing Loki’s attention to him. “I am Groot?” (“ _Which one was in charge when they both got locked in an escape pod for three hours?_ ”)

That caused Rocket to roll on the table in hysterics, and Loki shot his brother an amused smirk. Thor, having to defend his own honor, quickly tried to justify the situation Groot had referenced.

Once Quill caught onto what they were talking about, he pointed at Groot accusingly. “You were sworn to silence!”

Thus, the whole group took to regaling Loki with stories of their hijinks and misadventures while traveling the galaxy. It was an unexpectedly pleasant and peaceful time – so much so that Loki eventually stopped trying to contain his laughter, and even joined Barnes in making teasing commentary about Thor, the Guardians, and the Revengers.

Everything seemed to oddly fall into place. It was far more comfortable than Loki could have ever imagined feeling around _any_ group of people, let alone in the presence of the Avengers. He had seen Thor act in such a way most his life, laughing and socializing freely with almost anyone, especially with Sif and the Warriors Three. Loki had been present at some of those moments, but usually only as a spectator. He'd never been invited inside the moments and had never expected that he would be. Yet now he found himself almost at the center of everything – with everyone gathered around him at the large table, making sure he was privy to their stories and jokes. He was even encouraged to share his own stories of some of the better pranks he'd played on Thor or times of the two of them in their youth, whether it was a hunting expedition or games they played, other realms they’d visited, or, of course, times they got into trouble (usually Thor’s fault, although Loki was always the one blamed).

Bruce specifically asked for Loki's version of the snake shapeshifting story that Thor had told him on Sakaar.

Valkyrie teased him about their tussle on the trash planet, which she of course felt was completely legitimate. Loki was forced to challenge Val to a rematch, saying they can spar anytime, anyplace. She promised to take him up on that in the near future.

Somehow, Loki was actually part of a perfectly domestic, friendly situation. And he was enjoying himself. As their group grew larger and the laughter grew louder – drowned out only by the obnoxious music that Quill demanded FRIDAY turn on over the loudspeakers – Loki, at some indeterminant point, stopped being surprised by the novelty of it all and just gave in.

Loki had lost track of time, but it had to have been almost half an hour or more when Morgan skipped over. She all but threw herself onto the bench next to the Trickster, sliding close and tucking herself under his arm. "Hi," she crooned, beaming up at him.

"Tiny Tin One," Loki greeted.

She distanced herself from him only to slide the pack off her back – she carefully set it on the floor between her feet, but its contents still rattled and clanged. The girl sighed, obviously relieved to be free of the bag's weight. Loki understood why she had been so fascinated by his use of the pocket dimension, when she was carrying so much around.

"Got anything interesting in there?" Rocket asked the girl, dipping his head in reference to her bag.

She gave him an odd look, almost seeming proud of herself but self-conscious at the same time. She glanced around to see who was listening. Loki purposely averted his eyes, feigning ignorance. Finally, locking eyes with the raccoon, Morgan nodded.

Rocket leaned forward and in a low voice, which Loki only heard because of his inhumanly keen hearing, told her, "Come by the hostel later and we’ll take a look."

Morgan gave a singular nod before swiping her hair out of her eyes and turning her attention to some elaborate joke Thor was telling.

Yes, Loki was certain that this small human was definitely the most intriguing. So when she scooted close to him again, giggling at whatever ridiculousness Thor was spouting, Loki didn't even consider denying the warmth he felt. Without really realizing it, he wrapped his arm around Morgan's shoulders and she happily leaned in against him. The laughter around the table died down as the conversation lulled, and Loki turned his attention to another tug of warmth. It took only a second to register the source, confirmed by a fluttering sound and the feel of fabric draped around him.

"Well, hello, again," Loki cooed to the Cloak clinging to his shoulders.

"I'm starting to take this personally," Strange's voice called. Loki glanced up and watched the man approach from behind Thor. Strange folded his arms over his chest, looking put out. Had Loki been the sentimental type, he might have thought that it was really quite adorable.

"It's not my fault that I'm irresistible." Loki locked eyes with the handsome wizard but quickly looked away when he felt heat at the back of his neck. He hoped the flirtatious tone of his voice had gone unnoticed.

Everyone else carried on their conversations and Strange sat down next to Valkyrie – which, Loki realized, was farther away than he would have liked. The Cloak must have felt the same way because it lifted off Loki's shoulders and whizzed across the table to its master, slapping Thor in the face as it did (gently, but still). Thor gasped and glared down the table, making Loki laugh. "I'm liking that Cloak more and more," he admitted.

Suddenly, Quill's music cut out – earning a disappointed groan from the man – and everyone's attention turned to the head of their long table. It was only then that Loki realized how the table had filled out. There was himself and Morgan at one end, ensconced by the Guardians, Bruce, Thor, Val, Barnes, and Strange. The rest of the table was comprised of Wong across from his friend, followed by the young Arachnid, Ant-Man’s daughter, another girl that Loki hadn't met yet, The Wasp with an older couple, and a trio of regal-looking individuals with dark skin. Colonel Rhodes was just past them with a young man with floppy brown hair at his side, sitting across from Director Fury and Maria Hill, who must have recently arrived.

Standing at the head of the table was the Lady Pepper, with Wilson at her side. "Okay, everybody! Attention, please!" Pepper clapped her hands, ceasing any remaining conversation and ensuring everyone was looking at her.

"I know that we're still waiting on some people, and we also have a team that's out right now," Pepper began. "But this is our first semi-official lunch together for this year, so I just wanted to make a small 'welcome' speech." She'd had plenty of experience in front of crowds in a corporate setting, but her tone was clearly more relaxed to suit the audience. "I want to thank you all for being here. I know that this reunion is important to everybody, but it's especially meaningful to me," Pepper paused. With a hard swallow, she continued, "Of course, this time is about being together, as family and friends. But it's also a time to remember."

There was another, longer pause as Pepper let her words settle in, the meaning heavy in the air. After a few seconds, the woman carried on. "As I said, we're still waiting for some people to get here. And we know that there are several people who _won't_ be here. People we'll never stop waiting for, not really. . ." her voice trailed off for a moment as she glanced down. Loki watched her fiddle with the ring on her left hand. Since he still had his arm loosely around Morgan, Loki gave her a shoulder a light squeeze, almost unconsciously. Pepper cleared her throat and looked back up to the group. "I just want to thank you all for being here, year after year. Not only to share in what we've lost, but to remember all that we still have. And," she added brightly, "this year, we have something special to celebrate. This year, we're lucky enough to have _gained_ something."

Pepper smiled and tilted her head, looking down the line of people. “Loki?” the strawberry-blonde called, making the mage snap his head in her direction. Her smile hadn't faded – in fact, it looked like it grew wider when the two locked eyes. "We're happy to have you back," she told him with meaning. "And I think I speak for everyone—" Pepper gestured around the cafeteria, but made a point to look toward Fury and Barton, “—when I say that I hope you will make yourself at home here."

Thor and Bruce gave a round of applause, as Valkyrie and Morgan both let out whoops and cheers. Loki jumped slightly when Barnes clapped his hands around Loki's shoulders and squeezed.

"Okay, guys!" Sam called, breaking up the small reveling. "Now, with all that said, it's time for lunch!" That caused the entire crowd to cheer and applaud. When they quieted down again, Sam held up a hand and said, "Sorry it's nothing too fancy. Just a few _hero_ sandwiches." He threw in an exaggerated wink as he spoke. But he only earned a few boos and hisses, with Barnes standing up and jeering at the man's awful pun.

"Jeez, rough crowd!" Sam shouted, waving a dismissive arm toward the group. Everyone laughed – even Loki allowed himself to chuckle – and then the room was full of life again as everyone stood up to begin gathering their lunch.

Morgan jumped to her feet. “Don’t move – I’ll be right back!” Before Loki could respond, the girl had darted away. So the mage sat down and waited.

He glanced across the room, where Strange and Wong were talking to the trio that Loki figured must be some kind of royalty or, at the very least, dignitaries. The young girl of the group said something that made Strange laugh, and the sound carried all the way to where Loki was sitting. Oddly, he thought he felt something like jealousy bubble up at the thought of the Sorcerer being amused by someone else – but, of course, that couldn’t be true because that would mean Loki felt something for the man (which he _definitely_ didn’t). When the small group broke up, Loki subtly tracked the Sorcerer’s movements as the man gathered his food and made his way back to the other end of the table with Wong. Strange had changed into casual clothes – aside from the Cloak of Levitation, he no longer donned his usual “Master of the Mystic Arts” attire, but instead was wearing a pair of loose slacks and a shirt reminiscent of a hospital smock (or, as Loki had learned from American TV, “scrubs”). Loki couldn’t help wondering if Strange had indeed saved his clothing from his time as a surgeon and still wore them. It was understandable, if so, and for some reason, it almost seemed. . . appealing to imagine the mortal in a hospital and how, before he knew that magic even existed, Strange wielded the power to save someone’s life with his bare hands. Hands which were now scarred and battered, unusable in such a capacity. Loki frowned at the thought and looked away – only to find Rocket staring at him. They watched each other for a minute but nobody spoke. Clearing his throat, Loki rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, never breaking from the raccoon’s gaze. Finally, Rocket looked down with a “huh” and, before Loki could challenge him or offer any kind of protestations to whatever conclusion the creature had jumped to, Morgan had returned and was already chattering away.

Once everyone else had returned to their seats with their plates, the conversation started up again – along with Quill’s music. They talked about anything and everything, and nothing at all, and it was really quite glorious. Morgan huddled close to Loki and kept announcing to FRIDAY about another thing to add to her “list.”

“What’s this list?” Quill finally asked the girl as he drummed his fingers on the table in time with the song that was blaring.

“Recommendations of things for Uncle Loki to see, do, try, watch, or visit,” Morgan answered. The group quickly returned to their discussion and joking, but Loki found himself staring at the small human. He was oddly and profoundly touched – not just by the fact that she was bothering to make such a list for him, but he had also noticed the way she had referred to him. ‘Uncle Loki’ – it was the same kind of title he’d heard her apply to several others in the Compound. And she did it with such ease, without thinking about it, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Just then, Thor took a too-big bite of his sandwich, only to have Valkyrie nudge him with her elbow. “Slow down, Majesty. You’ve only recently got your figure back – I’d hate to see you lose it so quickly after all our hard work.”

Thor’s eyes widened and he gulped down the food. He worriedly glanced over at Loki, who gave him a puzzled look. That quickly grew into a devilish smirk that widened by the second. “What’s this, Brother?” Loki asked, a devious glint in his eyes.

“Uh-oh,” Val mumbled. “You mean, Lackey doesn’t know about—”

“No, Brunnhilde,” Thor interrupted, shooting a glare at the warrior.

Val looked at Thor sheepishly. “Oops?” She tried to look apologetic. Thor shoved his plate away, with his sandwich only half-eaten and leaned back in resignation, folding his arms across his chest and staring into nothingness with a scowl plastered on his face. Trying to escape the situation, Valkyrie jumped up and looked pointedly at the Winter Soldier. “Oy, Barnes.”

“Yes?” The man looked up at her expectantly through a curtain of hair that swooped in his eyes.

“I’m gonna go workout. Care to join me?” The Valkyrie suggested. Barnes shrugged, then nodded. He scarfed down his last bite of sandwich and stood, grabbing both his and Val’s plates and taking them to the trash. Valkyrie muttered a rushed goodbye as she stood before making her way over to Barnes. The two disappeared and Loki looked back to see Thor still scowling.

As soon as the Trickster opened his mouth, the Thunderer pointed a finger at him. “Not. A. Word,” he snarled. Loki shook his head, chuckling softly. Bruce, apparently completely amused, burst into laughter, patting Thor on the shoulder. Soon, they were all laughing – even Thor smiled and rolled his eyes, allowing himself to be the butt of the joke.

The rest of the lunch passed as pleasantly as the time before it and Loki, in no hurry to rush it, melted into the moment.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

The ride on the Quinjet was quiet. Granted, no one really knew what to say. They were heading into a situation where no one knew what to expect. They had dealt with a few vigilante, super-powered types in the past – many of them turning out to be of the mutant variety and being shipped off to a school run by a mind-reading guy in a wheelchair, who was actually quite persistent in his requests for them to partner up with him. The Avengers always politely declined a formal arrangement, but they (or at least Carol) suspected it was only a matter of time before they joined forces.

Carol had long-since put the jet on auto-pilot, turning her chair to face her crew. “So, FRIDAY, any idea what we’re walking into here?”

“ _I’m afraid I have very little data, Captain Danvers,_ ” FRIDAY lamented. “ _I can say that the suspect is still in the same location, and although he appears to be armed with repulsors, he has not shown any inclination of using them_.”

Carol crossed her legs, swinging a foot back and forth in the air. “How did we actually find him?”

“Sam said cameras picked him up,” Scott answered. At Carol’s ‘ _no duh_ ’ look, he elaborated: “Um, multiple cameras caught him just walking around the city, before he finally ducked into a mall.”

“Where he’s just been sitting, doing nothing? For hours?” Carol asked incredulously.

Scott nodded. Then he frowned. “That’s kinda weird. Isn’t it?”

“Uh, ch’yeah,” the blonde replied.

Wanda furrowed her brows. “It’s almost like. . .”

“He wanted to be found,” Nebula finished. The Lumphomoid was standing at the back of the jet, tucking a phaser-gun into her holster.

“You think this will turn ugly on us?” Carol asked, nodding toward the weapon. Nebula simply shrugged, tugging her jacket together and zipping it up.

“ _ETA, less than one minute,_ ” FRIDAY announced. Carol flipped a switch, releasing the landing gear. They had already changed into their respective suits and armors, so all they had to do when the jet landed on the roof of the three-story mall was step off.

All four quickly secured ear-pieces so they’d be able to communicate. Then, Carol asked, “FRIDAY, where exactly is this guy?”

“ _The target is near the fountain, in the center of the mall._ ”

“Of course he’d be right in the middle of a bunch of civilians,” Carol muttered, mostly to herself. Then, she replayed FRIDAY’s words and frowned. "Wait. He's _still_ just sitting there, out in the open?" Carol asked dubiously.

"Um," Scott piped up, chuckling nervously. "Pretty sure this is the part where Admiral Ackbar runs in and yells 'it's a trap!'" He waved his hands frantically, doing his best impersonation of the squid. If it hadn't been such a dire situation, Carol would've laughed – mostly because she actually got that reference.

Nebula looked at Scott with narrowed eyes, clearly not amused. But she gave him a terse nod. "We were right. He's waiting for us."

"I agree," Wanda stated. She ran her hand through her hair and sighed.

Carol looked at each of them in turn before letting out a sigh of her own. "Yup, definitely feels trappy," she concurred. Then, she threw her hands up and said, "Let's go – teams of two."

She turned to head for the door leading to the stairwell into the building, but was stopped by Scott. "Whoa, uh, guys?" The man hurried forward, standing in front of Carol, holding his hands in a time-out gesture.

"What?" Carol asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"What do you mean,’ what?’" Scott scoffed. "If it looks like a trap and walks like a trap, chances are – it’s a damn trap!”

“Probably. So?” Nebula asked with a scowl.

Scott let out a disbelieving laugh. “Call me crazy but when everyone agrees that something is a trap, that’s usually a ginormous, flashing neon sign that reads, ‘turn around and go the hell home.’ Or at least come up with a better strategy or, like, calling for backup!" He raised his arms, clasping his hands behind his head with his elbows out, with a look of exasperation.

The assassin stepped up so she was toe-to-toe with the ex-con. "We were sent on this mission. Not someone else – _us_. We're not leaving until either it's complete or—"

"Please don't say 'we die trying,'" Scott interrupted, pleading.

The Luphomoid glared at him. “— _or_ ," she repeated, drawing the word out for emphasis, "we have no choice but to leave."

"She's right," Wanda insisted. "We're already here. We have to give it a try."

"C'mon, Scotty," Carol said, patting the man on the shoulder. "It's _one_ person, and there's four of us. How hard can it be?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "Famous last words," he deadpanned.

The three women started across the roof. Scott hung back, still hesitant. Finally, he groaned and ran to catch up with them as they opened the door and descended the metal stairs.

"Oh, my, Grandmother," Scott muttered in a high-pitched voice, "What big, shiny teeth you have." Then, in a low growl, he added, "The better to eat you with, my dear." Back in the high-pitched voice, he let out a fake giggle and said, "Oh, okay!"

"Lang, shut up!" Carol snapped.

The trip down the remaining flights of stairs was silent except their footfalls. When they finally reached the bottom, Carol opened the door to reveal the shopping center. It was surprisingly busy, despite being mid-afternoon on a weekday.

" _The fountain is to your right, approximately 500 feet_ ," FRIDAY announced over their comms. " _The target is seated at a table right beside the fountain, wearing a black overcoat_.”

Carol leaned her head out of the stairwell and immediately spotted the person they were looking for. The hood of his jacket was pulled up and although it had slid back slightly, Carol still couldn’t quite make out the guy’s face or any other features.

“So do we have a plan?” Scott asked quietly, still tense.

“Is there a sign of Stark’s technology?” Nebula’s question was directed to FRIDAY.

" _There's a faint energy signature matching that of an arc reactor, but it appears to be only residual. Nothing is currently activated_."

Wanda shrugged. "Well, that might be good?" she offered.

"Yeah," Carol had to agree. "If he _is_ waiting for us, at least he's not sitting there with guns blazin'."

"You do know that someone who asks questions first and shoots later, still shoots?” Scott protested.

Carol bit her lip and turned back to her teammates. “It’s better for everyone if this guy’s a friendly, right?” She didn’t wait for a response before adding, “Plus, whatever happens, I’d rather steer _any_ action away from all these shoppers.”

“What might you be thinking?” Wanda asked, concern creeping into her voice.

“I’m gonna talk to him,” Carol replied as nonchalant as she could. When Scott and Wanda both opened their mouths to argue, the Captain simply held up a hand. “I’ll just feel it out. Even if he’s on the up-and-up, he still might spook if he feels ambushed.”

“Spook?” Scott asked incredulously. “We’re not talking about a horse or cornered animal. This is a person – an unknown, mysterious, potentially dangerous, _armed_ person,” the man reminded her.

“Chill,” Carol told him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not exactly helpless, you know.”

Wanda frowned and shook her head. “I don’t like this, either.”

“I’ll be fine,” Carol insisted. “Besides, you’ll all be nearby and can charge in to save the day if necessary.” She threw in a wink for a good measure.

Nebula, who had been (characteristically) silent the whole time, stepped forward. “I’ll cover you.” And the way she said it let Carol know instantly that it was not an offer or request – it was a statement of fact that she would be shadowing the vet, which was actually quite comforting. So Carol nodded and looked to the other two, smiling tightly when they both sighed and nodded in agreement.

Then, Carol and Nebula stepped out of the stairwell, with Scott and Wanda following a few paces behind them. Carol headed straight for their target. Halfway there, Nebula veered off to the side, disappearing in the crowd of people. Glancing behind her, Carol saw that Scott and Wanda had vanished, too. But she was comforted by the fact that they were all available by their comms and she knew that even if she couldn’t see them, they were carefully watching her.

The fountain was in the center of the mall, which was also where the food court was located. It was late afternoon, meaning it was between meals and the people milling about were mostly passing by the area rather than loitering around in it. There were several tables, some of them with people seated at them. And there were some kids throwing pennies in the fountain. The guy Carol was heading for was sitting at a small table right next to the fountain. He had been looking at the water but when Carol was about 50 feet away, his head snapped in her direction and he locked eyes with her.

Carol came to a halt, thrown by the sudden attention from her target. Now that she was closer, she could finally see him without his hood or people in the way. He was a nice-enough looking guy with short, sort-of spiky dark hair and dark eyes. More than that, though, she was startled to discover that he was _young_ – barely 18 or 19. Apparently, the kid was full of surprises because as he stood up and walked toward the blonde, a smile spread across his face. Carol took a few steps forward to help close the distance between them.

“Danvers,” the guy said softly, letting out a breath of relief. Carol reared back, tucking her chin down into her neck and furrowing her brows in confusion. The guy’s grin started to fade. “C’mon, Danvers, it—it’s _me_ ,” he told her, almost desperate-sounding.

Carol puffed her cheeks up and blew a puff of air out, wracking her brain even though she knew she had never seen this person before. Finally, she threw her hands to the side. “I got nothin’.”

“You seriously don’t know who I am?” The kid asked softly. When Carol shook her head apologetically, the boy clicked his tongue. “How is that possible?” he muttered, running a hand through his hair – a hand outfitted with a gauntlet, Carol was sure to notice.

“How exactly do you know me?” Carol asked, cocking her head to the side in a puppy-like manner.

The boy chewed on the inside of his cheek. His eyes darted around somewhat nervously before finally landing on Carol again. “Come on,” he said, jutting his chin forward to direct the woman back in the direction from which she had come. Without another word, the stranger started walking.

“Uh, guys?” Carol said quietly into her ear-piece as she hesitantly followed the guy, from a distance of course.

“We’re hearing everything,” Wanda’s voice crackled over the comm. “And we’re tracking you,” she added. That gave Carol comfort and she gained a bit of confidence as she walked, glad to be behind the boy so she could keep an eye on him.

She did find it interesting that he led her directly to the stairwell she had come from, but he didn’t stop within the doorway. Rather, he started up the stairs – heading for the roof.

“Where are we going?” Carol asked with nonchalance, stopping on a landing.

The guy was half a flight ahead of her and he paused to glance back and down at her. “The roof,” he told her plainly. He lifted a foot to continue but was stopped again.

“Why?”

Sighing, the teen turned and descended the few steps so he could stand on the step just before the landing, in front of the Captain. “We have a lot to talk about,” he told her. “I figured we should get away from all those people,” he said, referencing the busy mall. “And it would only make sense for you to arrive by jet, which of course you would have had to land on the roof.”

Carol was slightly jarred by the young man’s scarily accurate overview. She didn’t want to let on, though. “Even if all that’s true, why would we need to go to the roof, or the jet, to have this talk?” She gestured around at the empty stairwell. “Why not talk right here?”

“We wanna make sure to include the team,” he answered with a shrug. Carol started to protest but the corner of the guy’s lip quirked up in a half-smile. “I know you didn’t come alone, Carol.” Then, he started back up the stairs.

Over the comms, Carol heard Scott say, “Sounds like we’re invited to the party.”

“See you on the roof,” Nebula said in an all-business tone.

Still hanging back a bit, Carol started climbing again. Behind her, she heard the door to the stairwell open.

Once they reached the roof, the guy stepped out into the center of the open space, sizing up the Quinjet. Carol sidled up next to him. “I brought three others,” she confessed. She looked pointedly at the gauntlets. “They’ll be up here shortly. Please don’t shoot them?”

The boy nodded in acquiescence. Just then, the door behind them opened and Scott stepped onto the roof. The boy turned around to look, and Carol swore she heard him gasp.

“Hey there,” Scott said slowly and tentatively, as one might to a stray dog. He held his hands up and walked forward. “I come in peace.” When he reached the pair, he lowered his hands and gave the kid a questioning look. “What?” he asked.

The guy was looking at Scott with a sort of wonder. He whispered, “You’re alive.”

Scott frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The kid let out a breathy laugh. Then, he seemed to realize the curious way Scott had been looking at him. “You don’t know me either?”

“Should I?” Ant-Man asked, glancing over to Carol for more information.

“He thinks we should,” she explained. “And he knows us.”

A series of emotions flickered across the young man’s face as he seemed to be processing information. The guy sputtered as he searched for words. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he finally stated. Looking at Carol almost imploringly, he asked, “You _really_ have no idea who I am?”

The Captain shook her head dejectedly. She was about to probe further, when the roof’s door opened again and Wanda appeared.

The change in the boy was instantaneous. He looked like he could spit venom and Carol’s heart was in her throat as she heard the tell-tale whine of the repulsor charging. The teen raised an arm, with his palm up and aimed directly at Wanda. In response, the Sokovian raised her hands, almost looking like she was about to start a fist-fight, except her hands were unclenched, palms out much like the boy’s. And her hands were glowing ruby.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Carol and Scott both started protesting at the same time. Scott’s head was whipping back and forth between the two people, eyes wide. Carol reached forward and grabbed the boy’s wrist with light pressure, encouraging him to lower it. He glared at the soldier for a split second before noticing the serious look in her eyes and realizing that she was wrapped in an orange glow.

“I told you there were more people with me, remember?” Carol reminded him in a soothing voice.

The young man made sure to keep his arm semi-pointed at Wanda, doing his best to fight against Carol’s grip. A scornful laugh escaped his throat and he spoke to Carol, although he kept his gaze on the other woman. “ _She_ is a threat.”

The statement shocked everyone, and even Wanda lowered her glowing hands a bit as she carefully regarded the stranger. The man looked dubiously at Carol and Scott before asking, “You guys haven’t figured it out yet?” At their confused looks, he explained: “She’s insane.” He went back to glowering at Wanda.

She bared her teeth in return, raising her hands again as red wisps continued to blossom at her fingertips. “Who are you?” Wanda called over.

The boy groaned and even rolled his eyes. “Of course. You don’t know me either,” he said, sounding more irritated than hurt by the fact this time.

“Why do you hate Wanda?” Scott asked, wanting to solve the most pressing mystery first.

The boy turned to look at Ant-Man, his gaze softening. “Where I’m from,” he started, allowing Carol to push his arm down, “she—” he jerked his head toward Wanda, “—is dangerous. One of the greatest enemies that Avengers has ever faced.”

Wanda’s hands dropped to her sides and the red energy completely disappeared. She stared, slack-jawed, much like her teammates. Carol’s eyes were wide, but she pushed onward. “What does that mean?”

With a heavy sigh, the newcomer looked up toward the sky. “You have no clue what she’s capable of,” he said, almost to himself.

With a disgruntled growl, Wanda stalked forward. “Stop talking in riddles and just tell us who the hell you are!”

The guy narrowed his eyes before officially powering down his gauntlets and straightening up into a semi-relaxed stance – well, maybe not _relaxed_ , exactly, but at least not actively preparing for a fight. Still wanting to satisfy his curiosity and also regain control of the situation, Scott asked, “Why do you keep thinking we’d know you?” Then, unable to contain himself, he bombarded the teenager with more questions: “How do _you_ know _us_? What do you mean by ‘where you’re from?’ And why in hell do you think I would be _dead_?”

Carol raised an eyebrow at Scott. “Cool your jets,” she mumbled at him. But then she looked at the boy. “He has a point, though. Several, actually.”

“I will gladly tell you everything and answer your questions,” the boy said stiffly. The three stared at him expectantly and he clarified, “Once we get back to the Compound.”

Apparently, that was the _wrong_ thing to say, because he suddenly had a gun pressed to his side and a strong arm wrapped around his upper body, ensuring he couldn’t escape or use his gauntlets. He looked down at the arm around him and smirked.

“Hello, Nebula,” he greeted, albeit somewhat frostily. When he looked down at the gun, he quirked an eyebrow up. “You’re threatening me with a phaser-gun?”

Nebula pushed the gun harder into the boy’s side. “It may not kill you, but it will still _hurt_.” The blue-skinned woman donned a demented smile. Slowly, though, she released her hold around his chest but didn’t remove the threat of the phaser. “You’ll answer the Ant’s questions. _Now_ ,” she growled into the boy’s ear. “Start with your name.”

“My name’s Nathaniel Richards,” he said, obeying Nebula’s order. “This reality that you know is Earth-616 – which I really don’t know much about, except that it, apparently, is a hot fucking mess.”

“You’re talking about the Multiverse?” Carol queried.

“Finally, _something_ you know about!” Nathaniel replied, only partially joking.

“We don’t know that much,” Wanda admitted. “Just the little bit that Mysterio told Spider-Man.”

“Which is basically just that it exists and is like alternate realities, right?” Scott looked at Nathaniel for clarity.

Rolling his eyes, Nathaniel scoffed. “I mean, if you want to completely over-simplify the concept and not really understand it at all.”

Nebula slapped the boy across the back of the head, making him groan and reach up to rub his scalp. “All we need are the basics,” Nebula snarled.

Scott rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So, you’re from a different version of Earth – where you’re an Avenger and Wanda’s not?”

Nathaniel shot a wary look at the woman in question, gritting his teeth. “Sort of. She used to be an Avenger, until—” he paused, dropping his gaze to the ground and falling silent.

“Until what?” Wanda asked, folding her arms across her chest.

In a quiet, somber voice and still looking at the ground, Nathaniel explained: “You kind of. . . broke. We all did what we could to help but it wasn’t enough.”

Wanda stepped forward, standing right beside Carol. “What did I do?” she whispered to the boy.

He let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “What _didn’t_ you do?”

That caused Wanda’s expression to darken and she looked at the ground, awkwardly rubbing her hands up and down her folded arms.

Nebula grabbed Nathaniel by the shoulders and whirled him around to face her. She kept the phaser-gun in one hand but grabbed his wrist with the other. “Why do you have Tony Stark’s gauntlets?” she asked gruffly.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “Stark may have made these, but they are _mine_.”

“Lies!” Nebula spat the word out.

“Believe what you want, Luphomoid,” the kid told her with condescension. “But there’s more than one Iron- hero in my world.”

“Wait, what?” Carol inquired.

Nathaniel threw his head over his shoulder and actually looked a little smug as he said, “Stark of course is Iron-Man, but there are others. Like me.” He grinned. “I’m Iron-Lad.”

Carol furrowed her eyebrows before shooting a look toward her colleagues. She was about to speak when Nathaniel groaned softly and turned back to Carol and the others. He put a hand up in a placating gesture. Nebula growled behind him, her gun having lost its place at the boy’s side, but she kept it aimed at his back.

Nathaniel glanced between Carol and Scott – making sure to let his gaze only bounce across Wanda rather than actually paying her any notice. In a serious tone and with a look that was almost _pleading_ , Nathaniel said, “You don’t know what’s coming.”

There was a long moment of silence. Scott was the one to break it. “Well, that is foreboding as shit.”

Carol pursed her lips and considered the boy carefully. “If you came to warn us about Thanos, you’re too late.”

Nathaniel’s head snapped to her and he furrowed his brows. “You guys actually faced _Thanos_?”

An uneasy feeling settled in Carol’s gut. “Are you saying that you didn’t?”

Nathaniel shook his head in the negative. “We stopped him before he could do any damage.” Everyone’s jaws dropped. Nebula finally lowered the gun, letting it hang limply at her side while her free hand clenched into a fist then unclenched, over and over.

“How the hell did you manage that?” Scott asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Nebula let out a snarl with a scornful look in her eyes. “What does it matter?!” She gestured to Nathaniel, carelessly waving the phaser in her hand. “Whatever _he_ did or didn’t do that made things turn out different – how does that help us now? It won’t bring any of them back!” She was yelling, and even shaking a bit.

“Wait, bring who back? Who did you lose?” Nathaniel interjected.

With a rueful laugh, Nebula turned back to him. “Rogers. The Vision. Gamora.” Then, in a low voice, she ground out the name, “Tony.”

Nathaniel blinked at the Luphomoid. “Tony’s _dead_?” When nobody said anything, he knew it was true. Then, interestingly enough, he looked at Scott. “And you’re not.” It was more of a statement than a question, as he seemed to be trying to wrap his head around the state of things.

“In your version of the world, I’m really dead?” Scott asked quietly. He received a somber nod in response and Scott took an unsteady step backward, running his hand through his hair thoughtfully.

The teen tapped his chin and pondered, “What happened to the timeline here? Why hasn’t anyone met me yet?”

“Um, how should we know?” Carol responded.

Nathaniel frowned at her. “I wasn’t asking you.” Carol shook her head in confusion. Before she could say anything else, though, she noticed that Nathaniel had his head tilted to the side and was standing very still, as if he were _listening_. After a minute, he muttered, “That’s. . . not possible.”

“What isn’t?” Wanda asked.

“In this Earth, I—” Nathaniel scoffed quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t even _exist_ here.” He let out a shaky breath. Putting a hand to his temple and staring at his feet, he softly asked, “Positive?”

“Okay, seriously. Who are you talking to?” Carol asked, pointed an accusatory finger.

Nathaniel’s eyes darted up and he looked somewhat guilty. Finally, he sighed and said, “JOCASTA.”

Wanda narrowed her eyes in thought. “I’ve heard that name before,” she mumbled, searching her memory.

“She’s my JARVIS,” Nathaniel explained.

Everyone looked to Wanda curiously. “Stark’s old AI?” Nebula asked.

Wanda nodded tentatively. “I didn’t know him, really. He was before Ultron. Before. . .” she gulped before softly saying, “Vision.” Carol patted the other woman on the back gently.

“We have FRIDAY,” Scott told Nathaniel, trying to move beyond the difficult subject.

Nathaniel nodded toward Scott but then flicked his eyes back to Wanda. “Wait, Vision is gone here?” he asked, earning a glare from Carol. “So how are you like this?”

The Sokovian frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The boy shook his head. “Yeah,” he sighed. “616 is definitely the messiest Earth I’ve seen.”

“Nathaniel.” Carol said forcefully, pulling the boy’s attention back on her. “No more games. We need to know: Why are you here?”

He looked at her for a moment, making her think he was going to deflect with more questions or vagueness. “To warn you,” he finally replied. “And to ask for your help.”

“With what?” Nebula demanded.

“There’s a threat coming.”

“Bigger than Thanos?” Scott asked him.

Nathaniel tensed and bit his lip, looking like he was trying to find the right words. Finally, he slumped his shoulders and let out a heavy exhale. “Bigger than everything. Worse than anything you’ve seen before or could even imagine.”

The uneasy knot in Carol’s gut tightened. “That hardly seems possible.” She frowned. “How are we supposed to help?”

“By stopping it,” Nathaniel told her. “This threat is all-consuming. It will take over and destroy _everything_. We have to stop him before it’s too late.” A sudden sense of urgency took over. “I told you, I will tell you everything I know and everything you need to know – but we’ll need the full force of the Avengers,” he implored.

Before anyone could reply, Nebula plainly stated, “Okay.” Then, in one swift motion, she lifted the phaser and rammed the butt of it into Nathaniel’s head. He dropped to the ground, unconscious.

“Nebula!” Carol shouted in admonishment.

But the Luphomoid simply shrugged. “Get him on board. We’ll see what everyone else thinks of him.” With that, Nebula walked away to board the Quinjet.

Carol groaned. She picked up the teen and hauled him on board, with Scott and Wanda scrambling behind her.


	7. Searching for the Secret Sauce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan & Shuri are ready to play mad scientists; Strange gets news about the other Sanctums, gossips with Wong, and receives a message from the Eye; and Carol isn’t playin’ around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, what do we have here? A filler chapter? Well, it has to happen now & then. Just couldn’t quite get these “minor” events to line up in a way that fit with some of the other stuff that’s coming – but these things needed to be told. So, here we are with a brief chapter filled mostly with foreshadowing, to tide y’all over until what comes next (which I promise will be meatier; just can't guarantee _when_ , exactly). Enjoy, and let me know your thoughts – I love hearing your theories & reactions, and your kind words mean more to me than you guys may ever realize. Pleasant reading!  
> xoxo, Doc

After lunch, Morgan followed Rocket back to the hostel with her full backpack at the ready. She went in the raccoon’s room and, as instructed, laid the three capsules of arc energy on the bed. Rocket picked up one of the capsules and looked at it with interest. Finally, he nodded and set it back down. Wordlessly, he made his way to his closet where he pulled out a large storage box. After some clattering and clanging, he tucked two capsules under his arm and carried them over.

“Here ya go,” Rocket told the girl, handing over the capsules.

Morgan looked at them carefully. “Wow,” she said softly, fascinated by the swirling red energy within them. She put both of them in her backpack, zipped it up, and slipped it on her back. “Thanks, Rocket.”

The raccoon nodded before grabbing the three capsules Morgan had brought him and took them over to the storage contained. He deposited them before shoving the container back in his closet.

“What are you gonna do with all those?” Morgan asked, jerking her head toward where who knows how many other capsules of energy and magic were stored.

Rocket beamed at her, his canines catching the light just right. “Savin’ ‘em for a rainy day,” he told her. Morgan eyed him curiously but when she realized he wasn’t going to divulge anything else, she shrugged and walked out, heading directly for her lab.

Before following Rocket from the lunch room, Morgan had told Shuri to meet her in the lab. She was kind of surprised that the other girl hadn’t beat her there, but she was certainly due to arrive any minute. Meanwhile, Morgan paced. She kept her eyes on the large box that Shuri had delivered earlier. It sat in the middle of the floor and Morgan could feel her heart hammering in her _throat_ as she eyed the package.

Then, she heard the keypad beep and the door slid open. Morgan bounded to the bottom of the stairs, smiling up at Shuri as she descended.

“Hi!” Morgan squealed, grabbing her friend’s hand and pulling her into a hug. Shuri giggled as Morgan released her and dragged her to the center of the room, where the two capsules of energy were sitting on the tabletop, waiting.

Shuri stopped in her tracks and glanced from the makeshift batteries to her friend and back. “Is that—”

“Wanda’s power?” Morgan supplied proudly, nodding. “Vision was originally powered by the Mind Stone, and that’s where Wanda got her powers, right?”

Shuri nodded absently, reaching for a capsule but stopping with her fingers just inches away, looking hesitant.

“I wasn’t sure how to stabilize it. But when Loki got here, he said that my dad’s arc energy is self-sustaining. . .”

“Wait,” Shuri interrupted, glancing at her friend. “You want to use both Wanda’s energy _and_ arc reactor power?”

Morgan’s head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. “I ran the numbers.” She turned her clunky laptop to face Shuri and pointed to a chart. “We can use Wanda’s energy to provide a kick-start. Then, we switch over to this—” she held up a small piece of metal, which resembled the original electromagnetic device that had kept her dad’s heart functioning, “—arc reactor.” Pointing, to the capsules, Morgan explained, “The reactor will absorb the Wanda-power and convert it into a different kind of energy contained within the reactor.” Morgan smiled, her honey-brown eyes shining with cleverness. “Then, Vision will have his own internal power-source.”

Shuri clicked through the data on Morgan’s computer and examined the small reactor, which Morgan had crafted herself based on her dad’s original designs – plus, a few upgrades to make it sleeker and more modern, of course. Shuri then regarded the capsule of red energy. A small smile started at the corner of the Princess’s mouth and, after a moment of consideration, she was nodding her head vigorously. "This," she said slowly, cautiously, "just might be crazy enough to work."

Morgan grinned at her. "Then what are we waiting for?"

And so, they each grabbed a crowbar and started to pry open the box that was serving as makeshift coffin. Once the lid was loose, they both sighed, smiled, and got to work.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

With all the excitement, Wong had completely forgotten to discuss his time at the other Sanctums with Strange. Of course, his fellow Master had very clearly been previously engaged, so the oversight was understandable on both parts. As lunch was winding down, Wong waved the Sorcerer over. Strange approached him with suspicion, narrowing his eyes at his friend. Wong held his hands up in defense.

“I just wanted to give you the run-down on the other Sanctums.”

Stephen didn’t let up his glare for another few seconds before finally relaxing his face and nodding once. “Let’s go somewhere private.”

Wong nodded in agreement and followed Strange to his room. Once inside, the Cloak of Levitation barely got out of the way before Stephen dropped down into the armchair in the corner of the room. Wong sat across from him, on the edge of the bed. They stayed quiet for a moment before Stephen finally let out a heavy sigh, ran his hands over face, and leaned forward.

"So, what’s the news from the other Masters?"

Wong let out a sigh of his own, not quite as weighted as his friend’s was. "For the most part, it was just the regular updates. Ya know, business as usual." Then he paused, before adding, “Except for this one thing."

Stephen perked up. "Yes?"

"A weird energy spike. That's what Hong Kong wanted to talk about, actually."

"What kind of energy spike?" Stephen couldn't remember any warnings coming across the Sanctum in New York.

"Don't know for sure. They said it showed up about a week or so ago? Lasted for only a couple seconds, then it went away. And they haven't seen it again since."

The doctor frowned. "Are they sure it wasn't just some anomaly?"

"The other Masters didn't think so. Mostly, they said they hadn't really seen anything like it. . ."

"I sense there's a 'but' coming," Stephen said cautiously, trying to read his friend's expression.

"But," Wong replied slowly, "one of the Masters did think it looked familiar – not exactly the same, but similar – a few years ago." Wong locked eyes with the other Sorcerer. "He thought it was like energy spikes that appeared during the Time Heist."

Instantly, Stephen's gray eyes widened. "That's. . . not possible. Is it?"

Wong shrugged. "How do I know? I’m no physicist or whatever." He gestured toward the Eye around Stephen's neck. "Besides, _you're_ the guardian of Time and protector of Reality."

"Wha—but, you're a Master of the Mystic Arts, too! You’re supposed to help me." Stephen blustered.

"Above my pay grade, Boss," Wong told him noncommittally. He leaned back, resting his elbows on Strange’s bed.

Stephen closed his eyes and rubbed circles around his temples. "Fine, I'll ask Banner. Or Lang. Or. . . someone."

"Good luck with that," Wong said with a nod.

Strange glared at him. "You are the worst friend ever."

Wong sat up straight, smiling fondly. "I love you, too."

Stephen groaned loudly and threw himself back against the chair. He closed his eyes and remained still for a few moments.

Wong eventually broke the silence. In a lighthearted voice, he chimed, "Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Trying to decide if I have the ability to get out of this chair. Or if it’s worth it if I do," the doctor answered honestly, smiling. His eyes were still closed, and he inhaled softly. Somewhat absentmindedly, he reached up and held the Eye of Agamotto between his fingers, tracing the lines of the relic. As he held it, he felt a sudden _urge_ to use it. Of course, he had used the Time Stone before and the Eye was always with him, but he wasn’t sure he had ever really felt such a calling from it. The sensation was odd. . . Almost distantly, Strange heard Wong take a deep breath. It pulled him back to the present moment. Perhaps the Eye would have to wait.

Playfully but somewhat hesitantly, Wong proclaimed: "I have questions."

"So do I," Stephen admitted. He lifted his head but stayed slouched. He picked at the threads on the arm of the chair. There were so many things racing through his head.

“I have questions,” Wong repeated slowly and intentionally, forcing Stephen to look at him. “About you and Loki.”

Stephen groaned. “Wong!” he all but whined. “I’ve already had my sex life _dissected_ and mocked by everyone today. Can we please not?”

Wong’s eyes widened and he leaned forward a bit with intrigue. “Who’s been bugging you about your sex life?”

“I swear, I will throw my boot at you,” Strange said, pointing at his friend. Suddenly, a thought popped into his head. “That reminds me: Since when do you just _barge_ into my room unannounced?”

“Hey, you’re the one who didn’t abide by the bro-code!”

Stephen cocked his head to the side in confusion.

Wong rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Oh, c’mon. You went to college. Everyone knows you’re supposed to hang a sock on the door when you’re. . .” his voice trailed off and he wiggled his eyebrows.

Stephen laughed in spite of himself. "Shut up,” he groused.

"I didn't start it!" Wong argued. "But now that _you’ve_ brought it up. . ." he paused, as if waiting for Stephen to stop him. When he didn't, Wong's face lit up in the most devious way. "Seriously – the library?"

"Ugh,” Stephen groaned. “What is it with you and the library?" he asked dubiously.

"Well, it's not like it's the most obvious place that somebody would hook up!"

Stephen scrunched his nose up at the phrase, which only made his friend laugh. Then, Strange pounded his fist on the chair and leaned forward with intensity. "No. Actually. You know what? Why _not_ the library? It's quiet. There's usually nobody around. And – I’m gonna say it," he threw his hands up as he proclaimed, "it's sexy as hell."

Wong's jaw dropped. He made Stephen jump when he suddenly leapt to his feet and pointed at the doctor triumphantly. "I _knew_ it."

"Pfft. You don’t know shit," Stephen grumbled, leaning back in the chair and looking away from Wong.

"I could see it when I looked at you. Actually, more like when _you_ looked at _him_." Wong chuckled as he practically fell back on the bed. In a mocking tone, he sang: "Strange loves Loki, Strange loves Loki. . ."

In an instant, Stephen was next to him on the bed, punching him in the shoulder. "Stop that!" he ordered. Although, it wasn't very threatening since he was laughing.

Wong sat up and punched him back with a smile. "At first, when I walked in there, I thought you'd just had way too much to drink or that you might have been tricked. But then I saw your face; you were all moony-eyed and stuttering."

"I did not stutter," Stephen said guardedly, a pink tint showing on his cheeks.

Wong waved a dismissive hand. "Ooh-hoo-hoo!" He giggled. "You've got it bad."

With that, Stephen fell back on the bed, defeated. "What the fuck is wrong with me? I barely even know him. And what I do know is that he is – or at least he used to be – _certifiable_. I mean, he literally tried to take over the planet!”

"Aw, but he's so pretty," Wong chimed sarcastically, earning another slap on the arm.

Then, after a beat, Stephen softly stated, "He _is_ pretty, isn't he?"

Wong practically rolled off the bed, guffawing.

"Shut up! This is serious," Stephen told him. "What is wrong with me?" he said again, more desperately.

Suddenly, Wong sat up and forced himself to look straight-faced. "Okay, let's figure this out. You're not some sappy romantic, so we can rule that out straightaway."

"Hey, how do you know that?"

Wong rolled his eyes. "Uh, because I've met you."

"So?" Stephen asked as he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He folded his arms over his chest, pouting.

"You are the poster child of logic and pragmatism."

"That doesn't mean I can’t be _romantic_ ," he argued.

"Maybe not," Wong conceded. "But it does mean that you're not gonna randomly fall head-over-heels for just any boob off the street."

"You have such a way with words," Stephen deadpanned, still laying on his back.

"I know, I'm a poet." Wong smirked.

“Do you think magic intermingles?” Stephen asked suddenly.

Wong tapped his chin thoughtfully for a minute. “As in. . .?” he trailed off, waiting for his friend to fill in the blank.

Strange threw his arm over his face. His voice was somewhat muffled as he spoke into the crook of his arm. “Loki said that his seiðr _liked_ my magic. Like they were drawn together. . . Drawing _us_ together.”

There was a stretch of silence before Wong finally said, in a surprisingly serious voice, “Sounds like you’re talking about soulmate type stuff.”

Stephen sighed and sat up. “I’m probably overthinking things and just, being stupid.”

Wong had this annoying habit of always seeming to know what Strange was really feeling, to hear what he _didn’t_ say. So he patted his friend’s arm and addressed the question burning in the Sorcerer’s heart. “It’s most likely a two-way street, ya know.”

Strange let out a soft laugh. “Meaning, you think that Loki feels as out of control as I do?” There was an ache of hope in his voice, and before Wong could respond, Strange pushed himself up off the bed and waved his hand dismissively. “Okay, we’re not talking about this anymore.”

Wong raised an eyebrow. “So. . . denial?”

Stephen hesitated only a second before nodding. “It’s not just a river in Egypt, you know.” With that, Wong sighed and allowed Strange to usher him out of the room.

As soon as the door shut behind Wong, Stephen sat down on the bed and grasped the Eye once more. Closing his eyes, he focused his energy on receiving the message he felt the relic was trying to convey.

There were several images that flooded his mind – of potential futures, each influenced by various decisions and events. Most seemed inconsequential.

But then something stood out. Stephen focused his attention on that particular timeline, letting it play out. Events unfolded in watercolor, showing a bleak future in which the Avengers found themselves in yet another battle for the fate of their world. Finally, with damage and desolation all around, Stephen couldn't help but shudder at the fact that only a fraction of them were still standing. They were all surrounded by scorched earth, facing off against an intimidating-looking being, shrouded in darkness. And there was another person there, someone unknown to Strange, in the middle of the battlefield, but that person was wearing Iron-Man gauntlets. Just as the menacing figure on the edge of the battlefield raised his hand, seemingly to finish off the Avengers, Stephen pulled away from the vision.

Blinking back to awareness, the Sorcerer found himself kneeling on the floor of his room and gasping. He focused on his breathing, trying to slow it down to avoid hyperventilating into a full-blown panic attack.

Once he'd calmed down reasonably, Strange leapt to his feet and opened the door. With a whistle, the Cloak quickly attached itself to the man's shoulders and then he took off down the hallway, searching for the people in leadership roles. Stephen may not be able to explicitly tell anyone about the futures he sees, but he could give clues and warnings. And since he basically just saw their world on the brink of destruction yet again, he sure as hell wasn't about to sit idly by and just let it happen.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Nathaniel blinked back to consciousness slowly. They were still on board the Quinjet. His ear-piece was missing, which meant no JOCASTA. He looked down at his hands and saw that his gauntlets had been stripped away, too. Nathaniel let out a heavy sigh, which came out more like a groan because of the pounding in his head.

Carol was sitting with her head in her hands in one of the captain’s chairs. She’d changed out of her ‘ _hi, I’m Captain Marvel_ ’ get-up and was wearing camouflage cargo pants and a gray tee. She turned and looked at him when he stirred, catching his gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, like he was a puzzle she was trying to solve. It was the kind of look one would expect from Carol – that whole ‘never-back-down, devil-may-care, I've-got-this, fight-for-what-you-believe-in’ combo that she somehow managed to pull off without a hitch.

Nathaniel looked down at the floor as he smiled to himself, glad to know that some things never changed.

A zipper sounded to the right, and he knew before he looked up that it was Nebula. She was still in the black faux-leather (pleather?) pants and a silver tee-shirt, which she had just covered up with the black leather jacket that she was zipping. Nathaniel had long ago decided that Nebula was basically a badass biker chick, which even allowed for the lack of hair. He liked to think that the blue of her skin, with its metallic sheen, was a kind of cosplay for a rave she was going to for, like, a New Year’s party. That way, he could at least _try_ to pretend that she wasn’t utterly terrifying and dangerous.

When their eyes met, she was staring him down. Of course, Nathaniel knew that the only reason he heard her was because she wanted him to – she _wanted_ him to know that she was watching him, to remember that she could still kill him with her bare hands and without even breaking a sweat if she wanted to; and should the opportunity or occasion arise, she wouldn't hesitate to do just that. Nathaniel nodded his head slightly, letting her know he understood the silent threat, before looking away. He could still feel the heat of her obsidian gaze on him. Unlike Carol’s curious stare, Nebula looked at Nathaniel (and most everybody else) like an obstacle to be eliminated – a bug to be quickly smashed underfoot.

Scott was nowhere to be seen, which was disappointing. Seeing the man alive was thrilling. Of course, Nathaniel had seen other versions of Scott in the various Earths he’d traveled to in the ‘verse. But this one was the first in a long time who actually _felt like_ _Scott_ – the closest, it seemed, in character to the man Nathaniel had known. Plus, it appeared as though this Scott was not about to be departing any time soon (knock on wood).

Nathaniel heard a throat clear, as a pair of boots appeared on the ground in front of him. He groaned inwardly before slowly raising his head.

Maximoff was standing in front of him, wearing a confusing expression. She was inquisitive, wanting answers, for sure. But she also looked oddly pensive, almost. . . caring, or concerned. Nathaniel couldn’t think fast enough to stop the scowl that settled on his face. He stared up at the woman, waiting. She blinked at him, her eyes owlish, before clearing her throat again.

“On the rooftop,” she started. “You, uh. You said. . .” There was a long pause as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

Nathaniel sighed. “I said several things. So did everyone else. Do you have a point?” He mentally kicked himself. He should know better than to antagonize this woman. But the anger and hurt bubbling up inside made his decisions for him. Plus, he didn’t have JOCASTA in his ear telling him to stop being a total dumbass.

“You seemed surprised,” Maximoff began again, “to learn that Vision is gone?”

“That wasn’t really the surprising part,” he told her, leaning back against the hull of the jet.

Maximoff’s lips parted slightly, as she let out a soft “ah” and nodded. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, certain that wasn’t all she’d wanted to say. The Sokovian sighed, running a hand through her auburn waves. “What did you mean when you said that I am ‘like this’ even though Vision’s not here?”

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. He was, admittedly, deeply conflicted. On the one hand, he knew this woman. He’d seen the rage and the chaos and damage she had wrought. Her volatile, explosive response to grief. Nathaniel knew the extent of her powers and the twisted way she used them; he remembered all those who suffered as a result of this one person. He knew what she could do, or had already done, or would do, or is still doing – depending on where you were in the Multiverse.

And yet. . .

 _And yet_ , this was not the same woman. This was someone else entirely. Someone who had not done any of those horrible things and, it seemed, was not about to. Just as Nathaniel had encountered several ‘versions’ of the people he loved (including times when they weren’t so lovable), this was a completely different Maximoff. There didn’t seem to be even the slightest hint of the unstable time-bomb he had known.

He had to wonder: Was that enough? Were the differences, the knowledge of those differences, enough to tone down his hatred of the woman? Because, in all honesty, it would never be gone – he would always hate and blame and, in many ways, _fear_ Maximoff. But would it be possible to give this person, this _Wanda_ , a chance to earn some semblance of redemption?

Maximoff was still staring down at him, waiting for a response. Nathaniel sighed. “You have a tendency to lose people,” he told her plainly. “And when that happens, you don’t really take it well.”

It took only a second for understanding to set in. She scrunched her face up, looking distressed. “So, whatever horrible things you know me to have done,” she said quietly, “it was from losing people?”

Nathaniel nodded solemnly. “You were poisoned by grief. You went mad with it.” He considered telling her more – explaining that it wasn’t just about Pietro or Vision. He almost told her about the life she and Vision had built and the happiness they’d found. . . about the _children_ they’d had. She had been unable, unwilling, to accept the death of her children; had distanced herself from the man she loved and all her friends; splintered herself from reality. Nathaniel almost told her all of these things.

But he didn’t. He held his tongue.

A chime rang out and Carol sat up straight, popping a crick in her neck before pulling on a headset. “Yeah?” she said into the microphone. “Hey. We’re, like, 10 minutes out.” She glanced backwards, eyeing Nathaniel somewhat wearily. “Mmhmm,” Carol lowered her tone. There was a long pause, as whoever was on the other line was speaking. The Captain was turned just enough that Nathaniel could see her eyes widen. “I see,” she mumbled, clenching her jaw. She bobbed her head up and down as she listened, muttering sounds to indicate that she was listening, “Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay. Riiiiiiiight,” she drawled out the last word. With a heavy sigh, Carol said, “Got it. Over and out.” Then, she pulled the headset off and stood up. Running a hand through her hair, she turned around.

“Nebula, can I talk to you for a sec?” she asked, gesturing toward the back of the jet. Nebula nodded and walked to the more secluded area. Passing by, Carol patted Maximoff on the shoulder. “Can you keep an eye on—” and then she jerked her head toward Nathaniel.

“Sure,” Maximoff agreed. “Is everything okay?”

“I’ll fill you in,” Carol told her briskly before swooping past and disappearing into the back of the jet with Nebula – and, presumably, Scott.

Nathaniel looked back to the cockpit, wondering who had called Carol and just what they had said. It seemed to have set her on edge suddenly. Movement from his periphery made him turn again and he was surprised to see Maximoff, much closer now and crouching down directly in front of him. He instinctively pulled back a bit, which made her frown.

“Whatever I did – whatever you think I am going to do?” Her voice was soft, almost shaky. “I am truly sorry, and I hope to prove to you that the person I became in your world is not the person I am here.” She looked at Nathaniel imploringly. The tone, even more than the words, gave Nathaniel pause. The auburn-haired woman actually sounded sincere, and the soulful gaze in her eyes almost made him _want_ to believe her.

“I don’t expect you to say anything,” Maximoff told him with a soft smile. She stood up, looking down at him still on the bench. “I just wanted you to know my thinking.”

Nathaniel nodded and forced a smile, albeit a small one. Before he could consider saying anything, the other three returned from the back of the jet. Nebula stepped forward, nudging Maximoff to the side. “Stand up,” she ordered. As he did, Nathaniel saw that the Luphomoid had a rope in her hands.

“What’s that for?” he had to ask.

Nebula only scoffed as she spun him around, pulling his arms behind his back and tying him up. _Tight_.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, throwing a glance over his shoulder to glare at the assassin. He turned around once Nebula was finished binding him, focusing his attention on Carol and Scott. “What gives?”

The soft curiosity from earlier had faded from Carol’s eyes, replaced now with an intensity that made Nathaniel want to squirm. Even Scott’s demeanor had changed – neither carefree and chill, nor the bundle of nerves. Instead, he had his arms folded over his chest and was staring at Nathaniel with a blank expression, his mouth in a tight line.

“I’ll only ask this once,” Carol stated in a carefully measured tone. “So I want you to think very carefully about how you answer.”

“Okay?” Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, urging her to continue.

Carol sighed. “Granted, you haven’t told us very much. But of what you did tell us, how much was true?”

Nathaniel’s gaze shifted amongst the quartet in front of him. “I don’t understand? It’s all true, Carol.” When he saw her mouth twitch sideways, looking dissatisfied, Nathaniel hurried to dispel whatever concerns had overtaken them. “I’m from a different Earth. There’s a threat that just about destroyed the world I knew. Once he started moving on to other timelines and realities, I decided to do the same. Danvers,” he implored, “I’ve been traveling across the Multiverse, trying to get ahead of this thing.”

“Trying?” Nebula queried. She narrowed her eyes. “Meaning, you’ve been failing?”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and exhaled sharply. “Technically? Yeah, I guess. Everywhere I go, I’m either too late, or we just don’t have enough firepower.”

“So, you’re recruiting Avengers in every timeline, and what? Searching for the secret sauce, trying to figure out which team will be able to defeat this mysterious Big Bad?” Carol summed up dubiously.

“I promise, I will tell you guys everything. But we _really_ need everybody to be in on this. Because, so far? Every team I’ve found hasn’t managed to make a dent in this monster’s plans. Nathaniel looking to Carol, conceding, “So yeah, I’m on a sort of Goldilocks mission to find the assemblage of heroes that’s ‘just right’ to put an end to this, once and for all. Before even more ‘verses suffer.”

“How much time do we have?” Scott asked, still wearing that uncharacteristically neutral expression.

Nathaniel sucked in a breath and sputtered a little. “Uh, pfft. That’s the thing. _I don’t know_. It’s not really an exact science.”

Finally, Maximoff interjected. “Okay, I know you said you would fill me in. But I think that needs to happen now because I’m lost.”

Nathaniel nodded in agreement. “Danvers,” he said, pulling Carol’s attention from Maximoff and back to him. “Is this about that radio call? Who radioed you? What did they say?”

Carol frowned. Bit her lip. Finally, she tilted her head back, closing her eyes as she inhaled. “It was Fury,” she told the ceiling of the jet. Looking back down, locking eyes with Nathaniel, she continued: “This thing you’re worried about? Well, sounds like it might actually be on the way. And as it stands, things are not going to end well.”

“How does Fury know any of that?” Nathaniel asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Nebula cocked her hip to the side, resting a hand on it. “Strange,” she stated plainly.

That made Nathaniel freeze. “He saw it?”

“I mean, I guess.” Carol threw her arms out and let out a breathy laugh. “Listen,” she stepped right up to the young man. “Something is barreling down on us and you know a hell of a lot more than you’ve let us think. You’re more _involved_ than you’ve led us to believe.” The half-Kree woman’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Are you ready to tell us the truth?”

They stared at each other for a few moments, which ticked by painfully slowly. Finally, Nathaniel let out a breath he didn’t completely realize he’d been holding. Keeping his voice as even as he could manage, he told the group the same thing he’d said before, “I will tell you what you need to know – once we have all the Avengers assembled.”

Carol wiggled her nose, the corners of her mouth twitching. Then, she glanced to Nebula out of the corner of her eyes, giving a quick nod. And even though Nathaniel had an idea of what was coming, it still surprised him. It still hurt when Nebula knocked him over the head yet again, and the world faded to darkness.


	8. Under penalty of pain, death, plagues. . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky & Val give each other a workout; Everyone discusses what to do about Nathaniel; & Wanda makes some plans with Dr. Strange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kind of got away from me. Bucky has a mind of his own & I ended up needing to include some explainers to go with the events of the last chapter. Then it was just getting too long to continue, so I decided to make this a chapter of its own and whatever is coming next will be in chapter 9. But hey, look at it this way: y’all get two updates from me close together, so, you’re welcome. ;)  
> As always, leave me love – it makes me smile.  
> xoxo, Doc

Valkyrie and Barnes had made their way to one of the smaller gyms in the Compound. Barnes wanted to change out of his casual Midgardian clothing, into something that was more befitting of a workout. Valkyrie had never really understood that, since most Asgardian dress is typically battle-appropriate. As usual, the man had only laughed at that before disappearing into the changing room, promising to be back in a few minutes.

Val sighed and started loading weights onto one of the lifting machines while she waited for her companion to return. She and Barnes had run into each other at random in the gym three years earlier, at the first of the annual gatherings. They’d mostly kept to themselves that first day, but when it kept happening every day that week, they started opening up bit by bit. Finally, the last couple days, they were working out side-by-side, chatting about a little bit of everything—mostly, they learned to bond over the oddities of modern Midgardian culture.

The next year, they fell into their workout routine immediately by meeting in the gym the first morning. They worked on the same equipment, either next to each other and usually finding some stupid way to compete, or by one spotting for the other on a single machine. Now and then, they would work the punching-bag – one holding it for the other, or on rare occasions they might put on protective gear to practice hits. Val desperately wanted to challenge the man to a genuine sparring session, but the room full of equipment was not particularly conducive to fighting. So instead they just worked out, competing and teasing and chatting. It was a unique and unexpected camaraderie that Val actually found herself look forward to.

Once the weights were on the pressing machines, Valkyrie sat down on the bench, straddling it, to wait for her friend. A moment later, the door opened and Barnes walked back in. Val narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I swear, you just take your sweet time and wait until I get done with all the heavy lifting before you come out here.”

“Yup, you caught me,” he replied with a coy grin.

“Knew it. You li’l shite.” But Val chuckled and just shook her head affectionately. She glanced over to where Barnes was sitting at the bench-press. He didn’t hesitate to lean back and start working the machine. Rather than starting in on her own workout, she swung her legs around so she was sitting on the bench facing Barnes completely, remaining alert like a good spotter just in case her assistance was needed.

Val watched as he lifted an impressive amount of weights – far more than any ordinary man could lift and, in many cases, even more than some of Asgards better warriors could manage. The Winter Soldier had changed into loose sweatpants with a muscle shirt. His long hair was dampening with sweat, sticking to his forehead. After about 15 minutes, Barnes returned the barbell to its resting position and laid back, taking slow, deep breaths.

Val stood up and stepped over to him, stretching out her hand. Barnes gave her a lopsided grin as he grabbed her wrist. “Up you go,” she announced as she pulled the man into a seated position. He took a few more heavy breaths before leaning down to grab a towel and wipe his face. When he moved the towel around to the nape of his neck, dabbing at where sweat had collected under his hair, Valkyrie suddenly felt her face flush.

The Asgardian let out a soft hiss, chastising herself, and turned away quickly. She stalked across the room, shaking out her hands (which had apparently become clenched into fists – when did she do that?) and trying to calm the jittery feeling in her stomach.

Okay, so maybe it was. . . a tad lower than her stomach. More like what Chaucer would surely consider to be the nether-regions. And it probably had less to do with nerves and more to do with the fact that it had been way too long since Val had seen a truly _fit_ man who looked like he could handle her. Then, that thought got her wondering just how well he’d be able to handle her. . .

“Hey,” Barnes’s voice pulled the Valkyrie from her lewd thoughts. She glanced up and saw him standing by the bench-press with a devilish smirk on his face. “You good?”

He smiled at her and she quickly scanned up and down his form. When they locked eyes again, Barnes raised a questioning eyebrow. Val shrugged. “Just admiring the merchandise,” she told him without hesitation, casually walking back over by him.

Barnes laughed. “Thank you?” He reached up and pulled his hair back, tying it loosely behind his head. Val’s eyes tracked the movement of the metal arm, which had always been a source of fascination for her. Quietly, Barnes asked, “Do you want to touch it?”

“’It?’” Val asked, gaping at him.

The man held his arm straight out in front of him in answer. Then, he cocked his head to the side. “Did you think I meant something else?” he asked suggestively.

Valkyrie ignored the comment, reaching out to place a hand in the bicep area of the vibranium arm. Moving against the smooth metal, Valkyrie traced her fingertips along the seam where metal met skin. There was no edging – it was completely perfect. As if he’d been born with the metal arm, like it truly was just a part of him. And he had learned to use it as such. It was commendable how the man took something that was forced upon him, intended to be a weapon and source of damage, and learned to _control_ it, to make it work for him rather than the other way ‘round. “You can’t even tell,” Val mumbled out loud, mostly to herself, letting her fingers dance over the nearly non-existent seam.

“Not anymore,” Barnes told her, a somber tone to his voice. The Valkyrie looked up at him and nodded in understanding. Even though they had developed a companionable rapport over the last couple years, they’d always had a sort of unspoken agreement not to talk about anything too serious or painful. That definitely meant that dredging up the past was mutually off-limits.

For another moment, Val allowed her fingers to traverse the prosthetic arm, marveling at the cold of the metal in contrast to the heat of Barnes’s body, as he was lightly flushed from the bit of exertion. “Wakanda fixed this up?” Valkyrie asked, tapping the man’s silver shoulder before dropping her hand back to her side.

“Yeah. Well, them, and Stark and Bruce.”

A minute or so ticked by in silence. Valkyrie glanced around the gym, frowning at the equipment surrounding her. She noticed Barnes watching her – silent, but ever watchful and all too _aware_ of everything around him. Finally, he gave her a soft smirk. “Nothing striking your fancy, Brunnhilde?”

She glared at him and the use of her given name. Then, she sauntered forward a few steps, closing some of the distance between them. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” She raised her hand again, this time stair-stepping her fingers across Barnes’s sculpted chest (no, really – literally made of marble).

The man inhaled softly, calmly, through his nose. It made that remarkable chest rise and fall quite deliciously. Valkyrie glanced up at the Soldier’s face and saw that he was staring down at her with that intense, soulful gaze of his. There was an almost-smile playing across his mouth. Honestly, she would have thought he was unaffected by her sudden closeness and her rather promiscuous fashion of behavior. But then Valkyrie noticed how stiffly Barnes was standing, frozen with his hands firmly and safely held at his sides. She grinned deviously.

“You know,” Val began, taking a step as she started walking a circle around the veteran. “I’ve got some contraband substances in my room. Care to join me in partaking of them?”

Barnes hesitated only a moment before licking his lips and asking, “Contraband as in what, exactly?”

“Little of this,” Val said with a shrug. “Little of that,” she added, finishing her circle and stopping in front of Barnes again. “Most prominently, though? I’ve got Asgardian mead.” She beamed at him.

Barnes snorted. “Alcohol has no effect on me.”

“This isn’t just _alcohol_ , Sergeant,” Valkyrie told him derisively. She held her hands up, palms open and pointing skyward, as she proclaimed, “This is Asgardian mead. The _literal nectar of the gods_.”

With that, Barnes looked at her with playful accusation. “Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?”

The question threw Valkyrie for an instant. And she felt that tingling in her lower region. Sounding as collected as she could, she quipped, “Is that what you’d like me to do?”

Barnes looked at her seriously for another moment, before cracking a grin. “Well, it’d be a start. But I bet we could find some other things to do, too.” He finished with a wink.

“Wait,” Val said with a chuckle. “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

The man threw his flesh hand over his heart, feigning injury. “Wow. You have to ask?” Barnes groaned. “Shit. Am I _that_ rusty?”

“So you _are_ flirting, with me?” Valkyrie asked, admittedly surprised on both counts.

Barnes scratched his temple. “Um, a little bit?” With a self-deprecating laugh, he added, “Only took you three years to finally notice.”

The Valkyrie was genuinely taken aback. “Sorry?” she told him guiltily.

Barnes shrugged. “Nah, ‘s fine. Just, like, a minor hit to my already fragile ego. No big deal.” He smiled at her.

She found herself inspecting the man again. He wasn’t the type she was usually interested in – mostly, because he was a _he_. Of course, she’d been with men; they just weren’t her preference. But when she was with a man, it was never one like Barnes. She tended to go more for big, blond, and dumb. Plus, the Valkyrie liked being in control and the soldier didn’t really strike her as a submissive kind of man. After what was probably a minute too long, Valkyrie returned the smile, if looking a bit more pitying. “You’re not really my, erm, well, _type_ , ya know?”

Barnes blinked, but quickly recovered. “Okay,” he said. Then, he added, “You’re not really mine either.”

“Hey!” Val said, shoving his fleshy shoulder. “The Hel does that mean?”

“Oh, I see,” Barnes drawled. He crossed his arms over his chest, making his muscles more prominent – almost enough to make an onlooker, like Val, salivate. “So, you can say that I’m not your type and that’s fine. But I say you’re not mine and all hell breaks loose?”

Valkyrie sputtered a bit. “It’s just that, well, I’d’ve thought I’m exactly your ‘type,’ Sergeant.” When Barnes looked at her questioningly, she elaborated: “Mouthy, deadly, curves for days?”

“Point taken,” he told her. “As great as those qualities are, they’re still not my type.”

“Just what is your type then?” Val smirked.

It almost looked as though Barnes wasn’t going to answer. Then his eyes dropped to the floor and he sucked in a sharp breath. In a quiet voice, he told her, “Blond, blue-eyed guys from Brooklyn.”

Valkyrie let the words sink in, processing what had just been said. Her eyes widened and she couldn’t hold back a small gasp. Upon seeing the look on Barnes’s face—one she didn’t know he was even capable of expressing, of total vulnerability and openness—she hurriedly composed herself and smiled at him. “You never cease to amaze me,” Val told her friend. He offered a half-smile at that. Then, Val sighed. “A’right. Full disclosure? I’m not looking for some romance. It’s been. . .” she paused, trying to decide how much to divulge. Finally, she settled for, “Let’s just say, it’s been _a while_ since I’ve had a good lay. And I’m in desperate need.” She raised her eyebrows, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“That’s. . . direct.” Barnes widened his eyes, then let out a breathy chuckle.

“So, that alcohol, yeah?” Valkyrie suggested. “It’s in my bedroom. What do you say we go back there and. . . don’t drink it?”

Barnes looked at her carefully, his eyes intense again and brows furrowed in thought. Finally, he relaxed his face and an impish grin appeared on his handsome features. “My place is closer.”

Some time later—nobody bothered to keep track of how much, exactly—the pair were in Barnes’s room. Clothes were strewn around the bed. Valkyrie rolled over, collapsing on the mattress. Panting, she said, “I like this new workout regimen.”

Next to her, Barnes laughed. He turned on his side and propped himself up on his elbow, resting his head on the palm of his hand. “Definitely an enjoyable way to exercise.”

“I’ll say,” Valkyrie agreed with a sigh. She closed her eyes and relaxed her head back on Barnes’s pillow. Her eyes opened again at the feeling of Barnes tracing his metal fingers up her arm. The warrior had to suppress a shudder as the Soldier moved the cold digits over her collarbone. It was a nice feeling, but a bit too intimate and tender for the Valkyrie. She sat up, pulling the sheet up around her shoulders as she did.

Barnes dropped his arm to the bed, still propped up on his side, and he regarded the Asgardian carefully. She cleared her throat, uncomfortable at the way he was _reading_ her. “So,” Val started. Letting curiosity get the better of her, she asked, “Did you ever tell ‘im?”

“Huh?” Barnes asked, furrowing his brow.

“Don’t be obtuse, Sergeant.” Val rolled her eyes. “I mean Rogers. He’s the one you described when you talked about your ‘type,’ right? Now, I’m no genius, but it doesn’t take _that_ many braincells to see that you were in love with him.” She leaned back, resting against the headboard. “Did you ever let him know?”

Barnes blinked once. Twice. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped, closing his jaw again. The silence quickly became awkward and Valkyrie put her hand over her face. “Wow,” she mumbled. After moving her hand, she looked up at the ceiling with a nervous chuckle. “Guess _I’m_ the obtuse one.” Looking back down to meet Barnes’s eyes, Valkyrie tried to smile in an apologetic but non-pitying way. “I know I’m a real git for asking this, but still. . .” she waited, giving the man a chance to tell her to shut up. He gave her a terse nod, permitting her to continue. Valkyrie shook her head softly as she asked, “Why?”

Surprisingly, Barnes let out a harsh laugh. “Seriously?” He gaped at his bed-mate. “You’re asking me why I never told Steve that I’m in love with him?” Barnes groaned and rolled over to lay on his back rubbing his face before folding his hands together and putting them behind his head. “It was the 40s – things were very different back then.”

“People don’t change, Barnes,” Val stated. “Times do, but people don’t. You still could have said something, at least to _him_.”

With another skeptical laugh, Barnes sat up. “Not really, no.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and leaned down to pick up his boxers. Val blatantly ogled him, enjoying the view as the man stood and pulled his shorts on. Then he turned back around, facing her and running a hand through his hair. “Steve and I had been best friends forever. We could rely on each other, and only each other. Before he got the serum _and_ after – he was all I had, you get that?”

There was a serious look in Barnes’s eyes and a slight accent slipped into some of his words – one that Val hadn’t really heard from him before but it sounded _right_ , somehow, anyway; perhaps something from his life before becoming the Winter Soldier, before HYDRA, before the war, even. Probably something related to Brooklyn, where he and Rogers had grown up.

Barnes was at his dresser, digging through the drawers. “After I—well, after everything that happened to me, when I found Steve again, I wasn’t in the right state of mind. It took a long time before my memories came back and I started to feel like myself again. And there just wasn’t time for much of anything before the world went to shit.” He huffed before he finally found a clean pair of jeans, quickly pulling them on.

Valkyrie took his cue and stood up, modesty be damned. She pulled on her leggings and then slipped her tunic over her head. When she turned back around, reaching up to fix her braided ponytail, Barnes was still shirtless and sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. Val frowned. Silently, she moved around the bed, sitting down next to him. She sat up straight and looked at the wall in front of her, letting out a heavy sigh.

“The Valkyrie were one of the most formidable forces in the Nine,” she began slowly. “They were noble, praised and highly regarded. All looked upon them with reverence, knowing that the warriors would protect them against any foe.” Somehow, talking about her sisters in a distant, third-person kind of way made it easier. Val sighed. “Once they were gone, there was no place for me. And even if Odin had wanted to rebuild the sisterhood, it would have been too painful, to see them replaced. So, I am the last of my kind. And I’m not the best representative.”

Barnes had lifted his head and was looking at Val. He opened his mouth to say something, but she placed her hand on his knee to stop him. “They weren’t just my people and we weren’t just an army,” she told him. She turned, meeting his eyes. “The Valkyrie were my whole world, my whole reason. For everything. Yeah, we were protecting Asgard and the other Realms, and we served Odin. But I didn’t do it for that, not really.”

“They were your family,” Barnes supplied.

Val nodded. “Save for one,” she said. “One was. . . more.” She smiled longingly and let out a shaky breath. “She was my Steve – best friend, sister, comrade, partner.” She paused, making sure Barnes was looking at her as she added, “Lover.”

The information didn’t seem to surprise Barnes. He just nodded and gave a sad half-smile. Valkyrie gulped. “She died with all the rest of them. Saving me, in fact.” Val laughed bitterly. “I wish it had been the other way ‘round. It should have been me died and her lived. She would’ve made better use of her life.” The Asgardian shook her head, shaking the thought away, too. “Eventually, thanks to Thor and Loki and Big Green—” she smiled fondly, “I found my way home again. And it’s never really been the same. There’s still lots missing. Including Asgard itself. But that’s beside the point. The point, Barnes, is that I realize now that I have lots of _good_ things to look back on, too.”

Barnes lifted his arms from his knees and straightened up. He glanced over to Valkyrie. Trying to change the subject, “So, are you telling me that you’re gonna quit drinking?”

Val laughed. “Not a chance! I might not be quite the emotional mess I used to be but if I quit drinking, I’d lose the best excuse I’ve ever had.” Upon seeing the quizzical look on her friend’s face, Val elaborated, “Drinking is what I believe you Midgardians would call a get-out-of-jail-free card. Whenever I fuck up, I can just say, ‘I’m really sorry about last night, but I was _really_ drunk.’ Then I get a little slap on the wrist and we all pretend it was a one-time thing. If I stopped drinking, what would I say?” In an exaggerated manner, she tried, “‘I’m really sorry about last night. It’s just that I’m mean, and loud, and bitchy. It will probably happen many more times.’”

Barnes burst out laughing. Valkyrie grinned, proud at having raised his spirits a bit. The man put an arm around Val and pulled her against his side, planting a rough, playful kiss on her cheek. “Thanks,” he said, his lips still close to her skin. “I needed that.”

In the next instant, Barnes was up and opening another dresser drawer, this time searching for a pair of socks. He brought them and a pair of boots back to the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said, “for what happened to your girlfriend and the others. And to you.” He sighed and started putting his socks on.

Val shrugged, leaning back on her elbows. “It is what it is.” She poked Barnes in the thigh, making him glance at her as he was lacing up his boots. “I don’t regret it, though. And I can’t help noticing,” she hesitated, biting her lip. “You said earlier that you couldn’t tell Rogers that you’re in love with him – not that you _were_ , but that you _are_.”

Barnes froze. He recovered quickly, though, letting his Winter Soldier training take over and hide his emotions. Valkyrie, always having trouble with limits, plowed on through, anyway. “You could still tell him, ya know?”

That cracked the veneer. “Why?” Barnes snapped. He stood and wheeled around to face the female. “What the hell good would it do? Okay, you had a great relationship and you have happy times to look back on – good for you. But she’s still dead, isn’t she? I never told Steve, that’s the choice I made. And now,” he scoffed, “now he might as well be dead because he’s _not fucking here_.” Barnes’s chest heaved as he took several deep breaths after his rant. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slower, trying to calm down.

Finally, in a cool and even voice, he said, “I didn’t mean that, about your girlfriend. I shouldn’t have thrown that in your face.” He opened his eyes. His tone was softer but his eyes still had a hardness to them, warning the Valkyrie not to push him because he was still teetering on the edge.

Val stood up and reached out, placing her hands on the man’s shoulders in a supportive manner. “I’m kind of an idiot who doesn’t know when to shut up,” she admitted.

Barnes looked up with a sigh before dropping his eyes down to the warrior. “I’m not used to people calling my bullshit.” He gave her a lazy smile. “There were plenty of times I could’ve told Steve how I felt, and it’s not that I didn’t think about it. But I knew my friend, which means I knew that he didn’t, that he _couldn’t_ feel the same way about me.”

“You were afraid of losing him and figured it was better to have him as a friend than not at all,” Val assessed. When Barnes nodded, Valkyrie pushed up to make up for the height difference and pressed a chaste kiss to the man’s lips. “You’re not bad, Barnes.”

He smiled at her as she settled back down onto her feet. “You know,” he said, letting his carefully constructed mask of control slip back into place. “My _friends_ call me Bucky.”

Val beamed at him. “And what about friends you fuck?”

“And people used to accuse _me_ of being vulgar,” he mused. Then, he said, “But to answer your question? Still Bucky.” He leaned forward to whisper in Val’s ear, “They just tend to say it multiple times. Sometimes, they scream it.”

Valkyrie threw her head back and cackled. “Oh, we’ll see about that, _Bucky_.”

Before either of them could say anything else, a chime rang out from the ceiling. “ _Forgive the intrusion, Bucky_ ,” FRIDAY announced. “ _Director Fury and the others request your presence in the lobby immediately_.”

Barnes— _Bucky_ , rolled his eyes. “Okay, FRI, thanks. I’ll be right there.” He looked to Valkyrie and shrugged. “Duty calls.” He slid open his closet, grabbed a t-shirt, and pulled it on. “Shall we?”

Val snorted and placed her hands on her hips. “Oh, I’m coming with you, am I?”

“Yup,” Bucky decided. He marched forward and looped his arm around Val’s, spinning her around and leading her out of the apartment.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

The landing gear of the Quinjet came down with several whirrs and clicks of machinery. It touched down and bumped along the pavement unevenly before finally smoothly settling onto the ground and taxiing to the hangar. Nebula hoisted the blacked out Nathaniel over her shoulder and exited the jet without a word, with Scott hurrying behind her.

Wanda grabbed Carol's wrist and stopped before she descended the ramp. "I'm confused," the Sokovian stated.

Carol sighed and sat down on the bench. She patted the spot next to her for Wanda to sit. Once both were seated, Carol leaned her head back against the cool metal of the body of the jet.

"When Fury radioed, he was. . . well, not happy." She sighed again, dropping her elbows down on her knees and hanging her head. "Fury and the others don't know what the kid told us on the roof. But apparently, Strange looked into the future and basically saw the shit hitting the fan in a major way."

Wanda frowned and scrunched her face in confusion. "But, isn't that what Nathaniel told us? I don't get how that makes him the enemy?"

Carol glanced toward the door of the jet before looking back to Wanda. "Look, Fury is paranoid enough to begin with, and now he's probably wanting to play it extra safe." The blonde stood up and rubbed her palms on her cargo pants. "The world already ended once. It happened because we weren't ready. And because we underestimated our opponent." She looked at Wanda pointedly, driving home the moral of the story for why everyone might be a bit more on edge than they would have in the past.

Wanda nodded in agreement before frowning again. "But doesn't that make Nathaniel a good guy? Or at least on our side? I mean, if he came here to warn us—"

"Yeah, _if_ he came to warn us," Carol interrupted.

Wanda stood up and straightened out her jacket, chewing the inside of her cheek as she thought. It seemed that the others, or at least Fury, didn't trust Nathaniel – which, okay, maybe they should proceed with caution and not instantly trust him. But there was still the fact that he came to them with this information. He had, as they had thought, purposely caught their attention and _let_ them find him, so that he could give them this warning. Wasn't that worth something?

Wanda suddenly realized that Carol was moving toward the exit, apparently thinking their talk was done. The Sokovian stepped up beside her to go down the ramp, but continued their conversation as they stepped off of the jet together. "To hear what Nathaniel told us on the roof, will that make the others feel better?"

A gust of wind picked up, blowing Carol's hair over her face. She brushed it back, spluttering to get strands out of her mouth. Finally, she groaned and jerked her head, indicating for them to walk with the wind at their backs. Scott and Nebula were nowhere to be seen, apparently having gone inside already.

"The kid appears helpful and with good intentions. But," her eyes flicked over to her companion as she frowned. "You gotta admit that showing up out of nowhere, claiming to be from another reality, as a harbinger of doom and destruction isn't exactly the most comforting thing."

They reached the front doors of the Compound and Carol paused with her hand on the door handle. "Listen," she said, looking at Wanda intensely. "Loki just showed up back from the dead. And yeah, people are vouching for him and so far, he seems to be on the up-and-up. But we still need to be careful, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Well, Nathaniel doesn't have anyone to vouch for him. And we don't know his history – which, in some ways, is _more dangerous_. I mean, at least people know what Loki is capable of, and why he did the things he did. With this kid, though? We're going in blind. And the fact that right after we find him, the Sorcerer Supreme has a vision of the exact thing this kid just told us he's trying to prevent? The timing is a little suspect."

Carol looked in the glass door, nodding to the group that was waiting for them. She released the door handle to hold up a finger towards them, signaling that they'd be just another minute. Quietly, she told Wanda, "I don't want the kid to be right, but if he is then I don't want him to be a bad guy, either. Just because I want it doesn't make it true, though."

Nodding thoughtfully, Wanda said, "Sometimes, _wanting_ to trust someone is what's the most dangerous."

"Right," Carol agreed. "So, we're all playing it safe, until we know for sure that what Nathaniel told us – and all that he has yet to tell us – is legit. And that he has nothing to do with it."

Wanda exhaled tiredly before shrugging and pulling the door open herself, waving Carol in ahead of her. The blonde smiled and walked in, heading straight for the group, which included Pepper, Rhodes, Bruce, Sam, Dr. Strange, Fury, and Hill. Wanda approached with Carol, noticing that even though Scott and Nebula were also there, Nathaniel was gone.

"Where's Nathaniel?" she asked Scott when she stopped next to him.

"Basement," Fury answered from a few feet away.

Wanda snapped her head in his direction. "I didn't know we had a basement. What's down there?" she cocked her head to the side, curiously but with a gnawing suspicion that she might not like the answer.

"It's the dungeon," Valkyrie's voice called. Wanda spun around to see the Asgardian coming toward her across the lobby, with Bucky right behind her.

"We do _not_ have a dungeon," Pepper said, in her most chastising mom-voice.

The Valkyrie shrugged and waved her hand dismissively. "Fine, fine. For the sake of modernity: It's a prison."

Sam groaned. "There's no dungeon and there's no prison! We just have a few holding cells downstairs – they were put in ages ago, as part of a contingency plan."

"I didn't know they were there, either," Scott said, leaning closer to Wanda.

"Because we've never needed them," Pepper explained.

Turning her attention to Dr. Strange, Wanda tucked her hands into the pockets of her long burgundy coat. "What makes you think we need the cells now?" she asked the surgeon.

Strange had a carefully placed neutral expression. "I can't divulge much," he stated, as a disclaimer.

Carol rolled her eyes dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. You can't reveal too much about the future, under penalty of pain, death, plagues and the unraveling of space-time, yadda yadda. We know." She looked at the man seriously now. "So, what _can_ you tell us?"

Strange ran a hand over his face and back through his hair, looking exhausted and somewhat distraught. "There's a threat coming, and it's massive." He paused, taking in a sharp breath before saying, "If the being responsible succeeds, there will be _nothing_ left."

Silence settled over the group. Wanda broke it, "And what does the boy have to do with that?"

"Because," Strange began, "he was there."

"Well, if he's here to warn us and fight with us then that's not so weird, is it?" Carol reasoned.

Pepper nodded along, saying, "That's what I said!"

Strange ruffled his hair. "But the—it’s just—" he groaned in frustration. "It's not that simple. I wish it would be, but it's not. And even _I_ don't completely understand it and I can't totally explain it. I don’t fully know how I know, but I—ugh, just _trust_ me when I say that if that kid is here, it does not bode well for us." When he finally ran out of steam, Strange closed his eyes and let out a long exhale.

Bruce raised a tentative hand. "So, if I'm understanding this right – the future with the monster that's gonna try to kill us will happen _because_ the kid's here?"

"That," Strange began tightly, "is the impression that I get, yes."

"Well. That blows." Scott scuffed his foot on the floor.

"Yes, it most definitely does 'blow,'" Fury repeated with a stern look.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself. She noticed Strange watching her and he cocked his eyebrow but she just looked away, shrinking back and making herself small so no one else would pay attention to her.

Rhodey stepped forward and clapped his hands, rubbing them together in front of him. "So, here's the plan: We keep the kid in the cell downstairs until we know more. We'll take turns on sentry-duty, and we'll see about getting him to talk."

"Sentries, really?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If he’s not actually alone, somebody might break him out," Sam suggested.

"Plus," Rhodey added, "we don't _actually_ know what this guy is capable of. I mean, he says he uses Tony's tech, but we can't be positive that's the only thing he uses."

Those words prompted Nebula, who clicked her tongue and reached in her pocket. She stepped over to Bruce, holding out her hand. "Here," she ordered. The physicist held his hand out, palm up, and Nebula dropped the items from her hand into his.

"What's all this?" Bruce asked, picking up the ear-piece that Nebula had confiscated from Nathaniel. He held the smaller gadget in one hand, pulling his palm up to his face to inspect the wrist-bands that served as Nathaniel's gauntlets.

"They're from the kid. Find out everything you can about them," Nebula told him.

Bruce nodded, then looked up to make eye contact. "Do you wanna help me?" he asked quietly. Nebula appeared to consider it, and him, for a moment before giving a curt nod. As Bruce turned to Sam, he was already being waved away.

"Go, go, go," Sam said, dismissing him and Nebula. They both left, heading for Bruce's lab. Sam turned back to the group, rubbing his hand over his face. A tic that was sweeping through the whole group, it would seem. "Okay, Clint is keeping an eye on the kid right now – he should be fine on his own since the guy's unconscious. But after that, we should probably try to have teams of two down there, yeah?"

Everyone nodded and mumbled some form of agreement. Sam had become something of a worry-wart, insisting everything be done on the buddy system. It actually ended up proving valuable most of the time, though, so nobody really minded.

Fury sighed. "Take four hour shifts watching. Find volunteers and figure out your own rotation," he ordered. "I gotta go make some calls – see what more we can figure out."

Hill chimed in with her agreement, "We need all the help we can get."

"Got that right," Fury grumbled. He started to walk away, pulling his phone out. Then he turned back to the group. "We're out of our depth with all this multiverse shit. Last time someone claimed to be from a different Earth, he turned out to be a murdering psychopath. So, just keep that in mind."

The tone of the group sobered as they watched Fury walk away with Hill in tow, both of them already putting their phones to their ears. Wanda frowned, filled with a sense of regret. Of course, Fury was referring to Quentin Beck, aka Mysterio, and the trouble he caused in Europe. Trouble that Peter Parker was left to handle by himself, because the other Avengers were too busy or too caught up in their own shit to remember they had a responsibility to uphold.

Peter managed to subdue Beck on his own, only to have the mad-man leave behind incriminating 'evidence' painting Peter as the bad guy while also revealing his identity to the world. As soon as that happened, the Avengers burst into action – realizing their mistake in staying silent too long. It took a lot of doing, but they managed to retract Beck's lies, proving him to be the criminal mastermind he was and showing how it was only because of Peter Parker that he'd been stopped.

Walking back the identity reveal was a harder task – but they used fact that Mysterio had been a farce, his "monsters" nothing more than illusions, to their advantage. Ultimately, the world was convinced that it was a combination of Spider-Man and Peter Parker who saved the day and stopped Beck, but that the two were still totally separate entities and Beck only _thought_ they were the same. It took some finagling, but it worked. Peter had, understandably, remained anxious about it.

Wanda still felt guilty about the whole thing. That had been right after the Battle for Earth, when she was grief-stricken and numb. She had left, needing to be on her own for a while. It was during that time that Wanda sought out all kinds of ways to bring Vision back, even exploring options to undo what _Tony_ and the others had done, to try and go back to when the whole thing started and prevent it right then. But it was to no avail and Wanda had returned—still heartbroken and with her tail between her legs—to the Avengers.

Although they understood and made a place for her, she still struggled. Finding out about what had happened to Peter while she was away, how even the others had jumped back into the fray to help him when he needed it but that she wasn't even able to be located? That made it all sting a bit more. Wanda knew that nobody blamed her, least of all Peter. But she put enough blame on herself for all of them and was _still_ trying to find a way to make it up to him. To all of them.

“Hey, guys?” Rhodey piped up. “Should we keep this to ourselves, for now?”

Pepper pursed her lips but nodded. “We’ll come up with an announcement at the meal this evening, to keep everybody abreast of the basics. But don’t say anything until we have an official statement,” she said, falling into her CEO persona.

With that, Sam waved his hand in the air, dismissing the group. “All right. Pep and I will come up with a schedule for guard-duty. If you guys want a specific buddy, let us know, I guess?” Everyone nodded and started to disperse. “Oh, and Carol? Can you maybe debrief us on what you learned from the kid?” Sam asked. Carol inclined her head and followed after Sam and Pepper.

With the meeting adjourned, Wanda stepped forward. Instantly, she bumped into the solid body of Dr. Strange, who had moved directly in front of her. He grabbed her by shoulders to steady her. “You okay?” he asked.

"Yes, I'm good," she assured the doctor, smiling at him. She moved to go around him, but he held her by the shoulders, keeping her from leaving. “Did you. . . need something, Doctor?” Wanda asked uncertainly.

Strange gave her a knowing look. “Something struck a cord with you. What do you know?”

Wanda hesitated, biting her lip. Then, she sighed. “I might have remembered something that was said, but I’m not certain it means anything.” She looked up into the Sorcerer’s gray eyes with purpose. “If I tell you, will you give me a chance to test my theory before mentioning it to anyone else?”

Strange twisted his mouth in thought before bowing his head once. “As long as keeping quiet won’t put anyone in immediate danger, you can test your theory. And if I can help you prove it, I will.”

Wanda smiled at him, then jerked her head to the side. They moved away from the center of the lobby, sitting down in a couple of the armchairs. Once Wanda looked back to make sure everyone had gone or was out of ear-shot, she leaned forward. “Nathaniel talked about the Multiverse and told us about the different versions of Earth he’s encountered.”

Strange was bobbing his head as she spoke, acknowledging that he understood. So Wanda continued, “He was surprised by many of the events and facts here, in this Earth. Apparently, he has access to an AI that he said Tony made for him – he calls it JOCASTA.”

“The ear-piece that Nebula gave to Dr. Banner?” Strange assumed.

“Yes,” Wanda confirmed. “Well, he was wondering why none of us know him yet, when he claims to know all of us in these different realities.”

“Did he have a reason?”

“JOCASTA did, it seems,” Wanda explained. “Nathaniel said that the AI told him it’s because he doesn’t exist in this Earth.” She inhaled sharply before pointing out the information that had struck her as potentially damning: “The future you saw, with this threat coming. You think we’re in it, and you said you think it’s _because_ Nathaniel is here. . .”

Strange gazed at the woman for a moment, a pensive look on his face. Suddenly, his eyes widened as he understood what Wanda was saying. He leaned forward so they were even closer and spoke in a harsh whisper. “If him coming here put us on the trajectory toward that future, but he doesn’t exist here, that means—”

“It _might_ mean,” Wanda corrected.

Strange inclined his head in acquiescence. “Then it might mean that he’s more closely connected to this monster than he let on.”

Wanda leaned back in the chair. She frowned, picking at her fingernails nervously. “See why I want to find a way to prove that before I tell the others?”

The doctor sighed heavily, with a sympathetic look that showed he understood. “There’s definitely something there, but you’re right: it’s a thread that shouldn’t be tugged too hastily, for fear of unraveling the whole sweater.”

Wanda couldn’t help but feel like the metaphor was accurate. She stood up, tugging her jacket tighter around her out of nerves. “So, what do we do?”

Strange stood as well, his Cloak whipping animatedly behind him. “If you’re really onto something, it means that whatever he came to warn us about is going to happen as a result of him coming to warn us – and we need to know why. I think we should try to get it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Wanda started to smile but then stopped. “That. . . could be a problem.”

“Why? You don’t think he’ll talk?”

“He might talk,” Wanda conceded. “Just, not to _me_.”

Strange tilted his head to the side, expectantly. Wanda sighed. “Where he’s from, I am not exactly myself.” When Strange still looked confused, Wanda let out a groan. “He might hate me.” She pinched her fingers together in front of her for emphasis as she said, “Just a little.”

“That’s problematic,” Dr. Strange stated with consternation.

“But maybe he’ll talk to you!” Wanda suggested. “Or someone else that we can trust? Or maybe you can use magic, to find out more information?”

Strange wrinkled his nose. “I’ll see what I can come up with,” he finally told her.

“Should I ask Sam if you and I can be on guard-duty together?” Wanda asked. She couldn’t help feeling relieved when Strange agreed. “I’ll have FRIDAY give him the message. And I’ll brainstorm.”

“Fine,” Strange said with a nod.

“Thank you, Dr. Strange.” Wanda grasped the man’s hand and squeezed, looking up at him with sincerity.

Strange smiled tightly, but genuinely. “Let’s just see if we can stop another apocalyptic disaster from happening. Thank me afterward.”

Wanda chuckled, but knew all too well the truth of his words. “I’ll see you at supper,” she told him as she turned and walked away, heading for her apartment.

When she got there, she immediately went to the dresser in her room and pulled open the top drawer. The drawer was quite sparse, with only a few knick-knacks. She pulled out a small wooden box. It was hand-crafted, and had been a gift to her – a welcoming present for her room in Stark Tower, back when she’d first joined the Avengers right after Ultron. Wanda smiled at the memory, thinking of how absolutely nervous Vision had been when he’d given her the box, and the charm necklace inside.

 _‘Maybe having something that’s yours will help to make you feel more at home,’_ Vision had told her at the time.

Wanda clutched the box to her chest and retreated from the dresser, falling backward onto her bed. She closed her eyes, running her fingers along the intricate designs carved into the wooden box.

“Nothing feels like home without you, Viz,” she whispered. She set the box on the mattress beside her and curled up into a tight ball. “So now what do I do?”

In response, there was only silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooooo Idk how the rest of you feel about the whole Bucky/Val dynamic but it was something that wouldn’t quit scratching at my skull & I just had to go with it – I actually kinda like it. Not sure if it will ‘reoccur’ or how often, but it’s there, so take it with a grain of salt :)  
> Chapter 9 will, hopefully, be up – well, I’m not gonna say _soon_ , but in not too long, mmkay? Also, I think I promised a couple ppl that some events would happen & characters would appear soon – obv, those have been pushed back a chapter or two. Sorry. But it’s still coming, I promise!


	9. Reductio ad absurdum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki & Nebula butt heads; Mantis needs to learn the “no-touchy” rule; Sam informs everyone about their unexpected guest; & Carol and Peter bond some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guyz. This chapter. It has been the bane of my existence. I have written and rewritten it several times, and it just kept going nowhere and I was not happy with it. So I apologize for the delay. I really wanted this one to accomplish way more than it did & it ended up a lot more filler-y than I anticipated (or wanted) it to be. Hopefully, we can get some of this excess info out of the way and continue onward more smoothly now. Idk. Let me know your thoughts! Also, please be sure to read the notes at the end for important info about updates in the immediate future!

After lunch, Thor dragged Loki around the Compound. He showed him all the different rooms and buildings. As they walked, and with each location they stopped in, Thor told stories. Most were about things that happened in the place they were in at that moment –

"The punching bags in this gym had to be reinforced because. . ."

"We have movie nights here, and picking a movie always ends with a fight because we can never agree on anything. . ."

Many of Thor's stories also involved things he'd done with the Guardians in space –

"I think all but one trip ended with us getting kicked out of some place or another."

"Once, Rocket pissed off an intergalactic gang. We had to beg them not to kill him. They only agreed if we promised to never return. So we're banned from that _planet_ now."

"Quill was involved in a game of cards and ended up owing more than he could pay. He talked his opponent into a 'winner takes all' challenge. I still don’t understand how he convinced the challenger to a _dance competition_. Of course, Quill won all his money back, plus some extra."

Then Thor got to talking about the founding of New Asgard and what was happening there. Seeing how his brother's face absolutely lit up when he talked about the new home for their people. Amazingly, it sounded like the Asgardians were adapting to life on Midgard exceedingly well. They had even established a work for those who were interested, as well as something referred to as a foreign-transfer program in schools, so the Asgardians could travel to neighboring towns. Things went so well for the adults and children in the first year that other communities got involved, followed quickly by other _countries_.

“Just before the summer,” Thor had said, “the United Nations approved for a two-way process, allowing Midgardians to come to New Asgard for work and school. That begins in the fall.”

Loki had been flabbergasted – not just by the sheer progress and changes made by the Æsir, but by Thor’s political know-how and leadership abilities. “How many Midgardians will be participating?” Loki asked as they returned to the main lobby and started up the stairs to the second floor.

“Last I knew, the official count was 20,” Thor answered proudly. “But there were many more applicants. Some seemed quite promising and intriguing, so many of the councilmembers were petitioning for the cap to be raised to at least allow five or so more.”

Loki paused at the top of the stairs and smiled at his brother. “It sounds like you’ve done exceptional work.”

Thor pouted. “You sound surprised.”

With a shrug, Loki replied, “I didn’t think you had it in you.” Then, looking in Thor’s blue-and-gold eyes seriously, he added, “I see now that I was wrong.”

The Thunderer’s cheeks were tinted a deep pink and he playfully shoved Loki’s shoulder before they continued walking. Their unofficial tour was coming to an end, having either visited or talked about every inch of the building and its grounds. Thor led Loki down one of the first hallways they had visited, where several labs and conference rooms were located. They rounded a corner, spotting two figures standing just outside one of the labs.

"Bruce!" Thor called, waving his arm through the air with a huge smile plastered on his face.

Bruce gave a small wave back, a grin spreading as he also waved toward Loki. The Trickster nodded in acknowledgement and his eyes drifted to the second person. Loki froze in the middle of the hallway when he realized who Bruce’s companion was.

The Luphomoid that Loki had been actively avoiding stared at him, glaring.

Slowly, Loki took the remaining steps toward the pair, stopping beside Thor and finding himself squared off against the blue-skinned android.

“Nebula,” Loki said with as much calm as he could manage.

“Laufeyson,” Nebula replied, her face remained neutral but her voice dripped with malice.

Loki narrowed his eyes. They stared each other down, an unspoken challenge between them.

Bruce watched the exchange, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Um, I’m gonna go ahead and get to work,” he announced, holding up his hand to show that he was holding a couple of black devices. Without waiting for any response, Bruce escaped to his lab and closed the door behind him, leaving Thor and Loki in the hall with Nebula.

“Where are the rest of the Guardians?” Thor asked, his tone light. Of course he had noticed the tension but rather than acknowledge it, he seemed intent on ignoring it completely.

Nebula kept her gaze locked on Loki for a few more moments before flicking her eyes to Thor. “Behind you,” she said, nodding her head. Thor whirled around and, indeed, the other Guardians were approaching.

Groot, Rocket, and Quill led the group, with two others behind them. Loki had seen them at one of the other tables during lunch but hadn’t met them yet. He assumed them to be Drax and Mantis, whom the others and Thor had talked about in their stories.

“This is my brother, Loki,” Thor offered the introduction to the couple. “Loki, this is Drax,” he gestured to the male.

Loki nodded in greeting, earning a huff and mumbled “hello” from the one known as the Destroyer.

“And this,” Thor smiled at the female with antennae, “is Mantis.”

“It’s nice to meet you!” Mantis chirped happily. There was an odd glint in her eyes as she extended her hand in offering. Loki figured she was just nervous, but also remembered that Bruce and Thor had both told him she was a bit of an odd one. So Loki gave a half-smile before reciprocating the gesture, grasping her hand in his.

The touch only lasted a second but that was all that was needed, as its effect was instantaneous. Loki was overcome with a swell of emotion, feeling bile bubble up in his throat and a surge of pain radiating through his entire body, culminating in a massive headache as memories, unbidden and unwanted, _screamed_ for his attention. Mantis ripped her hand away as she let out an agonized scream. Loki couldn’t move away fast enough, vanishing from the spot and reappearing several feet away. Drax and Groot were next to Mantis, patting her back as she was hunched over and trying to catch her breath.

Still recovering from the overwhelming emotional upheaval, Loki was caught off-guard as Nebula slammed him against the wall. “What did you do to her?” Nebula snarled.

Loki panted, both from being shoved into the wall as well as from the effects of touching Mantis. “I didn’t—" he tried. But wherever he was going with that answer, it was clearly ‘wrong’ in Nebula’s mind. She let out a feral growl and slammed Loki backward again. He felt the wall behind him crack and saw bits of plaster and drywall drifting through the air. Nebula kept him pressed to the wall with her hands firmly planted on his shoulders.

“Careful,” he whispered, dropping his voice to a serious, low tone. “I’ve bested you before,” he reminded her warningly. As part of the Black Order, all disagreements were settled with fights. And no one disagreed more than Nebula and Loki. With a devilish smirk, Loki added, “And your _daddy_ isn’t here to protect you this time.”

Nebula’s scowl was truly impressive. She released one of Loki’s shoulders and wheeled her arm back, her hand curling into a fist. Just as she looked ready to actually throw the punch and Loki considered whether he should go ahead and fight or just get the Hel out of there, something in him froze. Against his will, Loki’s mind supplied him with the memory of hands around his neck.

Loki was no longer even vaguely aware of his surroundings. He felt like he was falling. Back in the Void, with nothingness for miles and eternity, filling all of time and space and distance. He tried to skywalk, called to Yggdrasil to flee. But he couldn’t _focus_ and there was no way to gain purchase on the World Tree’s branches. Everything felt distant and Loki’s vision started to black out as the world closed in on him. His brain was a muddy mess, aside from the overwhelming inner voice that was completely certain that Loki was dying. And then the Void was gone and Loki heard the cold, cruel laughter that had become so familiar. Everything ached and he was cold – forced into his Jötunn form, humbled at the foot of the throne upon which the Mad Titan had seated himself. Loki kept his eyes clenched shut, prepared for the harsh words and even harsher physical punishment—

But neither came. Instead, Loki heard a firm but gentle voice calling his name.

“Hey, you’re okay. Stay with me,” the voice was saying. Loki felt himself returning to consciousness and his eyes fluttered open. Right away, he regretted it as he realized his lungs didn’t want to work. He was curled up, sitting on the floor—when did that happen?—and suddenly lurched forward, coughing raggedly. A warm hand was rubbing his back vigorously, but not enough to be rough.

“Loki,” the voice said. It was far-away, muffled – like being underwater and hearing voices from beyond the surface. Loki squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head softly, trying to clear the fog from his mind. The voice spoke again and this time Loki urged himself to pay attention.

“Breathe, Loki.”

He wanted to. Norns, how he _wanted_ to. But at the moment, breathing felt like the most impossible thing in the world. He wanted to beg the voice to ask him to do something else, something _easy_ , because breathing was too hard. But he couldn’t say it because that would require him to actually breathe.

“Sheesh. Just, stop holding your breath!” another voice grumbled from Loki’s other side. This one was gruffer and came from a lower position. He was already sitting – how was someone lower than him? The first voice was much more caring, Loki wanted that one back.

Finally, _finally_ Loki managed to suck in a breath. He exhaled wheezily then inhaled again, desperate for air to move through him. The hand on his back was moving again, gentler this time in soothing circular motions.

“Good, Loki. Just like that,” the voice, a man, said. “In,” a beat, then, “and out.” The man modeled the way he wanted Loki to breathe and Loki followed along, trying to match him. After a few shaky attempts, Loki was breathing regularly again, in time with the man.

Senses returning, the mage tried to piece together what had taken place. He remembered the hallway, talking to the Guardians. He met Drax and Mantis. Something happened when he and Mantis touched. Nebula was there. . .

Loki started scrambling backward, pushing against the floor with his hands and feet. He was quickly backed up against the wall again – except, not pinned, this time. He brought his hands up, clawing at his own throat.

“Hey, hey, whoa,” the voice said in a gentle tone. Loki’s hands were stilled by a machine – no, that was wrong. Not a machine. But metal. A metal arm.

“Barnes?” Loki asked, his voice sounding raw.

“Yeah, it’s Bucky,” he answered, offering a crooked smile as Loki blinked and tried to focus on the Soldier’s face.

Loki frowned. He glanced at the others gathered around him. Rocket was closest, crouched on his haunches nearby and staring at Loki intently. Bruce had come out of his lab, apparently to see what the commotion was about. Thor stepped forward and kneeled down beside Bucky, directly in front of Loki.

“Do you remember what happened?” Thor asked, concern etched all over his face.

Loki swallowed thickly. “I was choking?” he replied questioningly. Loki’s eyes widened when they fell on Nebula. Thor put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, shaking his head.

“She didn’t choke you,” Thor stated firmly. Loki glared at him, ready to argue. But Bucky squeezed his other shoulder to draw his attention.

“Your mind was playing tricks on you,” Bucky told him. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear before standing. He held his arm out in offering and Loki took it, allowing himself to be pulled up. “You had a panic attack,” Bucky explained. He offered a soft, genuine smile. “I get ‘em, too.”

Loki nodded a bit absently. His gaze fell to Mantis, who was standing at the back of their small group, hands folded in front of her and staring at the ground. After a deep, steadying breath, Loki took a few steps forward – just enough so that he caught the insect-humanoid’s attention, as she met Loki’s gaze, her large eyes imploringly apologetic.

“You’re an Empath?” Loki asked her, although his tone was decidedly more accusatory.

“Yes,” Mantis answered simply. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

Loki swore under his breath and forced himself to take a few, calming breaths, reminding himself to maintain his composure and forcing away the sparks of green energy that were trying to dance across his fingertips. At least things _made sense_ , now. When he and Mantis touched, her ability to perceive emotions had caused Loki to relive those feelings. He’d already deduced that much, but he must have just miscalculated the effect it had on him. That’s why Nebula was able to catch him by surprise to pin him, and why the close proximity made his mind travel to the last time someone had been so near to him in a threatening manner like that. The fact that he’d goaded Nebula by mentioning her adoptive father probably didn’t help, as that likely made memories of the Titan more accessible than he would have liked.

Having thoroughly psycho-analyzed himself and the situation, Loki felt more at ease, being able to _explain_ what had happened, to understand it. To ensure it wouldn’t happen again.

Mantis’s small voice broke the silence: “How do you stand it?”

Loki stopped his inner monologue and snapped his head in the female’s direction. “Excuse me?” he asked, not sure he’d heard her nor that he fully understood her meaning, anyway.

She licked her lips and her eyes darted around to her companions, nervously. “Just—” she began but stopped. Her hands were still held together in front of her and she tightened her grip on her own wrists, as if she was afraid they might reach out and try to touch someone (Loki) again without her approval. “You feel _so_ much,” Mantis finally continued, furrowing her brows. “How can you stand it?”

Everyone’s focus shifted to Loki at that. He bristled under their microscopic gazes. Finally, with a soft chuckle that morphed into something of a growl, Loki gave Mantis his best Trickster smile. “If reading my emotions is so unbearable to you,” he told her icily, “I suggest you keep your distance for the duration of this gathering, lest we accidentally touch again.” He paused for a beat before adding, “You might not be able to survive such a thing a second time.”

Mantis shrunk back, panic evident in her eyes. Loki couldn’t deny the sense of pride he felt at having that effect on her. Unfortunately, he _also_ couldn’t deny the guilt that bubbled up; a by-product of his newfound altruism. He shoved all of that down, though, and turned on his heel to head down the hall, away from the group. Loki had learned over the centuries when he was wanted (Answer: rarely, if ever). So, by now, he knew exactly when and how to make his exit.

Imagine his surprise, then, when he heard footsteps behind him. He didn’t stop or slow down, even as the Winter Soldier fell into step next to him. Hearing more footfalls, Loki realized that all of the Guardians were following him, in addition to Bruce and Thor. He scrunched up his nose in confusion as he turned and started down the main stairway. At his side, Bucky chuckled.

“Y’know what yer problem is?” he asked, his tone full of amusement.

Loki glanced sideways at him. “Please, do tell.” He hoped the sarcasm would bleed through.

Bucky reached over and tapped Loki’s temple softly. “You’re in your head too much,” he stated as he took the final step into the lobby. Somehow, Bucky took the lead, maneuvering himself and Loki so they were walking toward the cafeteria. The silent group behind them followed suit.

“What do you propose?” Loki asked, deciding to humor the man. “Perhaps I should just turn off my brain entirely. Ooh, I know! I could wander around like a mindless dolt. You Midgardians seem to like that; there’s certainly enough pop culture about it.”

With a derisive snort, Bucky gave Loki a heavy side-eye. “Reductio ad absurdum – cute.”

Loki’s mouth twitched at the corners and he had to force himself not to smile. “I’m the God of Lies, Sergeant,” he retorted. “Manipulation and fallacious reasoning are some of the greatest tools in my arsenal.”

They stopped at the doors of the cafeteria, turning to face each other. Bucky smiled. “See? Nobody else gets my philosophy references.” The Soldier patted Loki’s upper arm. “You can’t go gettin’ yerself shipped off ta’ the funny farm on me.” An accent had slipped into the man’s words as he spoke in an easy, friendly manner.

Loki returned his smile, feeling oddly relaxed by the man. “Perhaps we’re more alike than I realized.”

Bucky’s lazy half-smile was weirdly comforting, and infectious. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’re completely fucked up?”

Humming thoughtfully, Loki asked, “Is that what we are, Barnes?”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Bucky placed a hand on his own chest and gave an overly dramatic little gasp, as the group caught up to them. “I’m a triple threat,” he continued. At Loki’s inquisitive look, Bucky held up three fingers: “Bitter, petty, and an emotional wreck.”

Unable to contain himself, Loki let out a louder-than-intended chuckle. With a smile, Bucky turned to the group. “Sam wanted everyone to be present for the meal tonight, so he can make an announcement.” The smooth, almost practiced-sounding tone was back in the man’s voice. It intrigued Loki and he wondered if it had something to do with his history – he’d already inferred that he was familiar with torture, and Loki knew enough to recall that the Winter Soldier had been something of an alter-ego before Barnes had fully adopted his own rendering of the moniker. Perhaps if they truly were friends, as Bucky seemed to be implying, Loki would be able to ask him some of those questions eventually.

“Well, I’ve got FRIDAY running some scans on those devices that were confiscated,” Bruce told Bucky, but he glanced toward Nebula, as well. “That’s gonna take a while, so I’m all yours, Buck.”

Bucky nodded as he pushed the door open and entered the cafeteria. Everyone followed him over to a table where they all sat down. It ended up with Loki on one side up near the middle of the table and Bucky beside him. The Guardians, Thor, and Bruce also sat down, interspersing themselves either next to or across from Bucky. It was painfully obvious that Nebula and Loki were back to avoiding each other, and Mantis was staying as far from Loki as she possibly could without being at a different table.

“So, what’s on the menu tonight?” Quill asked, folding his arms over his chest. He had positioned himself on the other side of Groot and seemed to be avoiding eye contact with Nebula. He didn’t have a problem looking at Loki, though, as he posed his question to Bucky. Interesting.

“Sam ordered a shit-ton of pizza,” Bucky replied, waving his hand toward a row of tables where boxes of food and cutlery were piled. “Of course,” he continued, “it’s not _real_ pizza.”

Drax grunted. “If it is not real, how are we expected to eat it?”

Quill audibly sighed and rolled his eyes. “That’s not what he meant. It’s edible—"

At that, Bucky snorted loudly. “Barely.”

Bruce huffed. “All right, I’ll bite. How is it not real pizza, Buck?”

“Simple: Because it’s not Brooklyn-style,” Bucky replied.

From behind him, Loki heard someone scoff discontentedly. Bucky heard it, too, and twisted around in his seat. “You got somethin’ ta’ say to that, Spidey?” the man asked, narrowing his eyes.

Loki looked back and found Peter Parker standing there. He had a slightly dumbstruck look on his face. “Uh, nope, not at all,” Peter stated, shaking his head fervently.

Bucky nodded and started to turn away. But then Peter’s innocent look faded and he smirked. “Except. . .” He paused long enough for Bucky to rotate fully, so he was straddling the bench seat. He fixed his gaze on the boy, arching a brow as he waited for an explanation. Peter stared him down with a shit-eating grin before answering. “Well, it’s just that Brooklyn pizza still doesn’t count because everyone knows that _real_ pizza only comes from Queens.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “You think—” he paused, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Are you trying—are you _actually_ saying that Queens produces better pizza than Brooklyn?”

Peter held his hands up in defense. “Not at all!” he cried. Bucky started to let out a sigh of relief but it was cut short by Peter adding, “I’m saying that what Brooklyn produces can’t be called pizza.”

Bucky pointed a finger at Peter, then threw his arm out to the side to point in the general direction of one of the exits. “Get the fuck outta my sight,” he said firmly but with a teasing tone.

Peter laughed and started to walk away, presumably to sit elsewhere, but Loki reached out a hand to stop him. "Sit," he said, patting the open space next to him. Peter gave him a shy smile but nodded and moved to sit down.

Before he had a chance, though, a blur of movement rushed in front of him. Morgan dropped into the space right beside Loki, scooting close to him and panting as she had raced over to steal the seat. Loki looked down at her and clicked his tongue in mock admonishment. "My spot," she said plainly, as if in her defense.

Peter laughed and ruffled the girl's hair. "Someone's been watching way too much _Big Bang Theory_."

Morgan giggled, swatting at the young man's hand in her hair. "I mean, Sheldon Cooper is kind of my spirit animal," she told Peter. He laughed and sat down next to her. Morgan excitedly—and repeatedly—tapped on Loki's arm, drawing his attention to her. "See those three over there?" she asked, pointing to the trio of dark-skinned individuals that Loki had noticed earlier that day. He nodded. Morgan beamed up at him. "The girl, Shuri, is a genius, too."

At Loki's raised eyebrow, Morgan winked. "Meaning, in addition to my own genius, of course."

"Morgan!" Peter yelped, admonishing her bragging.

The girl waved a dismissive hand, ignoring him. Loki decided in that moment that Morgan was definitely one of his favorite humans – it made him want to do something for her, or to get her something. . . He'd have to think about that.

Meanwhile, Morgan continued with what she'd been saying. "Shuri's also one of my best friends. We're working on a super important project right now."

"What project might that be?" Loki asked, curiosity piqued.

Morgan wiggled her eyebrows. "Top secret," she said with a grin. "Can't tell _anyone_ till it's done." Then, she frowned slightly. “In fact, I should still be working on that project. But _someone_ ,” she glanced in the direction of her mother, who was at the head of the table, “insisted I come in here to eat, instead.” Morgan’s voice had been louder than necessary and with a huff, she folded her arms over her chest resolutely.

“What’s wrong with asking you to eat?” Loki asked.

Someone sat down across from Loki and sniggered. Loki turned away from the girl, smiling softly when he saw who the new arrival was. “Morgan here,” the Scarlet Witch began explaining, giving Morgan a fond yet admonishing look, “is of the belief that taking the time to eat—especially when it comes to eating regularly like a normal, _civilized_ person—is beneath her."

"Nooooo," Morgan drawled, rolling her eyes at Maximoff. "It just takes too much time," she argued. Turning to Loki, she clarified, "Valuable time that I would rather devote to my projects."

Loki hummed, tapping his chin in thought. “Genius requires sustenance, does it not?” he posed. “If you do not provide yourself with the fuel necessary to be fully committed to such endeavors, you are only cheating yourself, and your projects.”

Morgan regarded him carefully for a moment. Finally, she started nodding slowly. “I guess you’re right,” she allowed.

Maximoff’s eyes widened, staring at Loki like she’d just seen a bilgesnipe for the first time. “How did—”

“Shh,” Bucky held up a finger, interrupting the Witch’s train of thought. “When you see a miracle, you don’t ask how it happened. You just accept it.” Then Bucky started laughing, joined by Bruce and Peter. Morgan glared at each of them in turn, fully aware that she was the butt of a joke.

Loki looked at Maximoff questioningly. She chuckled, shaking her head as she looked over at her little charge. Then, looking back to Loki, she said, “You’re like, the Morgan-whisperer.”

At that, Morgan stuck her tongue out at her regular caretaker. Maximoff returned the gesture and the antics increased as they both made silly faces and sounds to one another.

Loki couldn't help smiling. He glanced over at Thor, realizing he was watching him closely. Beaming, Thor reached up and ran a hand through his hair. It was still short, of course, but Loki realized it probably needed a trim – it wasn’t quite as short as it had been on Sakaar, leaving him with a shaggy look. Loki felt something catch in his throat as Thor ran a finger along the raven-colored braided strand that was clipped to one of the longer locks of his blond mop.

Bruce had glanced over and saw the action, too. He pointed and hurriedly, as if speaking without thinking, he asked, “Is that Loki’s _hair_?” A blush instantly appeared on the man’s face, tinting his face bright red all the way up to his ears. But his curiosity must have been stronger than his self-perceived impertinence, because he didn’t retract the statement.

Thor twirled the braid between his fingers, still smiling as he gave a quick nod. But he didn’t offer anything else and when Bruce looked at Loki, he simply shrugged. Bruce clicked his tongue and looked back at Thor. “This is another one of those weird cultural things that you think I can’t possibly understand without being Asgardian, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” Thor replied. And with that, the they all fell into relatively easy conversation.

Rocket sat on the table in front of Groot, chattering excitedly about the current going rate for Flerken eggs.

“I’m thinkin’ we should have a standing trip to Knowhere planned,” Rocket was saying. “Because there’s a market there, and y’never really know when we might find ourselves in need of a buyer, if any o’ yous catch my drift.” He chuckled, winking in the general direction of Bruce, Bucky, and Loki.

“Did you just _wink_ at me?” Bucky asked incredulously. In response, Rocket merely winked again, far more exaggeratedly. “Yeah, that’s never gonna not be weird.” Bucky shuddered and reared back, away from Rocket. Loki didn’t think it was entirely faked. Rocket cackled as he dropped down on the seat between Groot and Quill.

Shaking his head, Loki turned his attention back to Morgan. She was fiddling with her watch, where a message had appeared. Loki saw that it said “STATUS REPORT” at the top, but wasn’t able to read any more because Morgan’s hand covered it and she quickly swiped her finger across the face of the watch, flicking the message away and looking back up with a sigh.

Playfully, Loki leaned against her, pressing his shoulder into hers. He applied gentle pressure until the girl tipped sideways a bit, arms flailing as she had reached forward to catch herself by gripping the edge of the table. She laughed and leaned toward Loki, with an overly dramatic scowl. She put both hands on his arm and side, pushing against in return. Of course, it did nothing, but he wasn't about to let her know that – Loki exaggeratedly tilted sideways, just stopping himself before he slammed up against Bucky.

"Ow!" Loki cried, feigning injury as he rubbed his shoulder. That made Morgan dissolve into a fit of giggles, joined by the amused chuckling from Peter and Wanda. Loki smiled before nodding toward Shuri. "So, who are the other two with your friend?"

"Ooh!" Morgan chirped enthusiastically, eyes lighting up. "So, they're all from Wakanda, which is this _really_ cool place – you’ll have to go there sometime. The woman is Okoye, she leads their warriors. But Shuri is the princess, and her brother there is T'Challa, the king. He's also the Black Panther—"

"Black Panther?" Loki interrupted.

"Avenger,“ Wanda answered, by way of explanation.

"Ah," Loki said quietly. "So that's his hero persona – it gives him powers?" he questioned uncertainly.

Morgan furrowed her brow. "Yeah, they have this weird thing where they can connect to nature or animals or something. I don't really understand it – I think it's just a culture thing. But it lets T'Challa have, like, Panther abilities, I guess?"

Loki nodded in understanding. He looked to the man, T'Challa, focusing his seiðr as he did. Sure enough, there was a shimmering silver aura around the Wakandan, solidifying Loki's supsicion that he was in fact a Totemic being, drawing from an ancient magic.

Out of sheer curiosity, Loki turned back toward Morgan. Most humans had a very faint light radiating from them, from whatever magic was lying dormant within them. Morgan was no different, except that her untapped seiðr was brighter than most people's; it reminded Loki of when he'd seen Tony Stark, how he'd had a vibrant blue halo surrounding him. Stark's own seiðr had been impressive, especially when compared to (combined with?) the glow that his Reactor gave off, with its pale blue radiancy that was so like the Space Stone and Tesseract.

Loki supposed it made sense that Stark's daughter, who was so much like her father in many ways, would have unknowingly managed to utilize some of her inherent magic, which also cast a brilliant blue hue around the girl.

Just for the Hel of it, Loki examined Maximoff. Her aura was a different shape, as it was manufactured and forced upon her, rather than being something inherent from her. Pulsing around the young woman was a scarlet glow, emphasizing her namesake. But there was also a prismatic quality at the edges of the aura, in an array of colors. Loki quickly had to look away, suddenly feeling an odd sensation. He was immediately reminded of the Space Stone again and he _knew_ that power radiating off the Sokovian was Infinity-driven. He wondered how many Stones had been used to turn her into a weapon. . .

Putting a stop to his wandering mind, Loki’s eyes passed over Peter. And he had to do a double-take.

The shiny, silver mist that had surrounded T'Challa was _nothing_ compared to the thick silver cords that outlined Peter's entire body, in addition to the shimmering energy that emanated from him, with one particularly bright spot localized to his arm.

"Um, Mr. Loki?" Peter's voice broke the Trickster from his reverie. "Are you okay?"

“Hmm? Oh, yes,” Loki said, shaking his head and forcing a smile.

"You, like, spaced out big time." Morgan's eyes were wide, looking up at Loki in a mix of confusion and worry.

"Sorry," he told them, looking away. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling over the meaning of the information he'd just gained.

"Attention, everybody!" Sam Wilson's voice called from the head of the large table, halting all conversation. “We’ve got pizza for everybody – and yes, there’s cheesy bread and wings and all the other goods,” he promised with a grin. “But first,” the man took in a deep breath. As he straightened his shoulders, the aesthetic became decidedly more somber. “We have some business to discuss.”

Everyone waited with bated breath, watching Wilson intently. He cleared his throat and began his announcement. “Some of you may know or have heard that we had a small mission today, to find someone who’s been doling out vigilante justice. We did reach the individual. But the situation wasn’t exactly what we thought it was.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Loki glanced around, taking notice of the mix of curiosity and concern. He felt the inviting tug—which was quickly becoming familiar—of Strange’s magic and spotted the man near the main doorway with Wong. Averting his eyes, lest he be caught gawking, Loki noticed that the Kree-humanoid Danvers was near them, standing at attention with her hands on her hips. She seemed to also be assessing the crowd, as if taking inventory of how best to control them should things get out of hand. Loki caught her gaze and nodded at her in greeting. Her eyes widened in brief surprise but then she softened and smiled, nodding back.

Wilson waited patiently for the din to die down before continuing. “It turns out, this person was trying to get our attention. He brought a warning, about a new threat that may be coming our way—”

“What kind of threat?” an older man called out. Loki hadn’t met him yet, but he and another older woman sat with the Ant-Man and his Wasp. Not far from them was Cassie, sitting by a girl with complexion similar to Valkyrie’s. Loki assumed they must all be related or connected in some way.

“Give him time, Hank,” Colonel Rhodes said softly but sternly from his seat at Wilson’s side. The men nodded at each other, and Wilson steeled himself to carry on.

“We don’t have all the details yet. The individual has been. . .” he scratched his chin, searching for the words. “Less than forthcoming,” he finally decided.

“Then how do we know this ‘threat’ is even real?” Rocket hollered from their end of the table.

Wilson fixed his gaze on the raccoon. “There’s enough evidence to support it.” He took a steadying breath. “Something else you guys should know is that this person mentioned the Multiverse.”

There were several surprised gasps and hushed whispers. Loki watched in confusion. Even Thor appeared to be slightly flummoxed. It dawned on the mage that perhaps the Avengers were truly unaware of the vastness of reality.

“Multiverse or not,” the man Morgan had introduced as T’Challa stood as he spoke. “Should we not meet this threat head-on?” he posed the semi-rhetorical question.

A wave of agreement rippled through the crowd, voices rising. Okoye spoke up, her voice strong and confident as she proclaimed, “We must not be blind-sided again. If there is something coming, then we must be ready for it.”

T’Challa nodded fervently. He looked toward Wilson and the other ‘leaders’ as he called out, “Never again will we wait, like cattle to be led to the slaughter.”

The room erupted in a cacophony of voices. Loki rolled his eyes and leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. Wilson and some of the others were waving and calling to the group, trying to regain control. But the floodgates had been opened and suddenly, everyone either had opinions, questions, or both.

“Enough!” a powerful voice boomed. It fell silent as a tomb as Director Fury stepped forward, replacing Wilson at the head of the central table. “Now,” Fury said, his voice regaining its typical casually-serious lilt. “Due to a number of variables surrounding the sudden appearance of this new individual, he is being kept in a secure location. We will be keeping a close eye on him.”

Loki snorted loudly. Fury raised an eyebrow, looking directly at the mage. That just made the Freudian slip even funnier but in an attempt to show decorum, Loki covered his mouth and slouched down a bit, to be less conspicuous. He waved his free hand, gesturing for Fury to continue.

The man scoffed in return. “Why, thank you so much, you Royal Pain-in-My-Ass,” he quipped in a smug tone.

Loki gave his most Trickstery smile, waiting for Fury to either continue the barbs or his speech. Really, it mattered little. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Fury looked skyward, seemingly gathering his thoughts. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped suddenly when a loud scraping sound of metal on tile sounded from across the room. Fury’s attention honed in on the source and, tracking his gaze, Loki and several others noticed Carol Danvers, standing on a chair.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

“Listen up, gang!” Carol exclaimed, silencing any remaining chattering. “I know this sounds confusing, and bad. And who knows, maybe it is. But!—” she held up her hands insistently, as if to halt any naysayers, “—we can totally handle this. As long as we do it _together_.” The blonde smiled and let out a deep breath. “Now, it’s true that we have someone here who may or may not be from an alternate universe. And yeah, according to this person, we might have a fight comin’. But we have yet to determine how much truth there is to his story. Until we do that, we’ll play it safe—but we are _not_ going to be ruled by fear.”

The female Captain paused, letting her words settle in. She shot a fleeting glance toward T’Challa and Okoye, then Rocket, since they had been the most vocal moments before. After a few mumbles of agreement rippled through the room, Carol continued: “We're all here together, and we're gonna enjoy our time as best we can. But we'll also be vigilant and proactive. If something does come from this 'threat,'" –she used her fingers to do air-quotes—“then we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

There was a pause, which Sam used to take over. “Carol’s right. So, everybody just relax. For right now, as far as we know, everything is fine. We’re not gonna act differently or do anything until we hear otherwise.” He sighed and put his hands on his hips. “I’m putting a list together for people to keep watch over our surprise guest. It’ll be four-hour shifts and teams of two. If you have shift or partner preferences, come to me and we’ll discuss it. Otherwise, you’ll get what you get. And I expect everyone’s cooperation on this.”

Nobody voiced any disagreements. Sam gave a single, conclusive-looking nod. And it seemed as if they were done talking about it for now and like it was time to just go back to their previously scheduled programming. But Peter Parker still had questions, and he didn’t want to just let those questions go unanswered. So, he tentatively raised a hand and cleared his throat.

“Uh, Sam?” Peter called out, standing up.

Sam’s head snapped in the younger man’s direction. He frowned slightly but hid it quickly. “Yeah, Pete?”

“Um.” Peter realized he still had his hand raised so he lowered it, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “You said this person is in a secure location but that we’ll be keeping watch on him – so is he, like, _here_ , in the Compound, then?” Before Sam could answer, Peter continued, because now that he’d asked one question, the others came pouring out: “And what all did he say about the Multiverse? What are all these mysterious variables you guys talked about? I mean, what exactly happened? Where did he really come from and all? And if we’re keeping him here but there’s a threat coming – well, isn’t that kinda asking for trouble? Are we really the best people to deal with this? Like, should we be consulting with people who know something about the Multiverse – assuming there are people like that, I mean? And—” Suddenly, Peter stopped. He realized he was out of breath from the tirade of questions, as well as from the mounting anxiety he felt as he realized that _everybody_ was staring at him. Peter’s Spidey-Senses were screaming at him in a fight-or-flight kind of way—definitely leaning toward “flight”—but he forced himself to stand his ground.

Then, Fury stepped forward, making it so he had an unobstructed view of Peter – which, honestly, did not make things better as far as Peter was concerned. The Director smiled (also, not making things better). “As far as we all know, _we_ are the authorities on this. On all of it. The best people to deal with this exact situation are all in this room.” He waved an arm, gesturing at the group of Avengers. “But we’ve also been doing some outreach. Doctors Foster and Selvig are on board to help us in any way possible. They’ve both done some groundbreaking research and theorizing—none of which I will even pretend to understand—and they’re merely a call away if and when we have need of them.”

“For now,” Hill interjected, standing up from where she’d been sitting at the table. “We just don’t have enough information to answer your questions, Parker.” She turned her attention toward the entire group as she added, “But we will.”

Peter frowned and let out a soft huff. “Okay, I get all that,” he stated, nodding toward the two officials. “But I still gotta ask: Where exactly is this mystery person?”

Fury narrowed his eye almost to a glare. He looked like he wasn’t going to answer at all, or like he was going to come up with some other convoluted diversionary platitude. But then Pepper stepped forward, placing herself in front of Fury and smiling warmly at Peter. “He’s in our secure cells in the basement,” she admitted. She turned to the whole group and nodded, as if to confirm that the answer was for their benefit, too. “While we’re guarding him—for his safety as well as ours—we’ll also try to talk to him and get more information.”

"Now that all this business-talk is out of the way," Rhodey called from where he was sitting near the head of the main table. "Can we _please_ eat?"

Sam smiled and nodded. "Yeah, everybody, let's dig in!"

And with that, everything seemed to go back to normal. Members of the group appeared to have settled back into the cool, easy feeling they'd had at lunch earlier in the day.

But Peter's Senses told him things weren't as relaxed as they looked.

Underneath the surface, everyone was tense; ready to startle at the slightest noise, peeking around corners, sneaking glances over their shoulders, and probably planning to check the closets and under the beds for monsters that might jump out in the hope of catching them unawares. Nobody was about to admit to any of that, though. They all wore brave faces, for each other. They all pretended everything was fine.

Because isn't that what _heroes_ do?

As Peter stood and started to make his way toward the line that was forming to gather food, he couldn’t shake the heavy feeling that had settled within him. He must have been frowning, because he suddenly felt an arm around his shoulders and was steered away from his current path. He glanced over to see that it was Carol who was dragging him from the crowd to settle in an open area near a small table, making them relatively secluded.

"What?" Peter asked, after a moment of Carol just staring at him.

She smiled. "You wanna figure out this Multiverse stuff for me, Peter Parker?"

Peter scrunched up his face in confusion. "Why are you asking _me_?"

Carol arched a brow, as if Pete had just asked the dumbest question in the world. "Uhhhhh.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, but with a playful grin that said it was just an act. "Because you're the smartest person I know?"

Peter blushed slightly. Carol grinned at him and punched him in the shoulder playfully. "If anyone can figure out this alternate reality shit,” she waved a hand in a vague gesture, “it's you." Then, still smiling but with a more serious tone, she added, "I think we should probably understand how the Multiverse works if we're gonna be dealing with it more."

Peter furrowed his brows in curiosity. "What makes you think we'll have to deal with it more?"

"C'mon, Parker. You really think this isn't gonna keep coming up?"

Peter considered that a moment, scratching his temple. "Hmm, I guess you're right." He shrugged. "Might as well figure it out as best we can."

"And you, my dear friend," Carol said, placing her hands on Peter's shoulders, "are just the man for the job!" She grinned widely.

The blonde started to turn away, but she stopped when Peter quietly asked, "Carol?" She looked back at him, waiting. "Why do you—" he paused, searching for the right words. Finally, he sighed and said, "Everyone else treats me like a kid. Most of the time, I don't even feel like anyone actually thinks of me as part of the team – until they need me to do something, that is," he finished bitterly. With a softer tone, he asked, “But you don’t do that. Why?”

“D’you want me to stop?” Carol asked with light sarcasm. Then she bit her lip and sighed. “I don’t think people _mean_ to make you feel like a kid or less of an Avenger. It just kind of happens, and I think it’s because they’re overprotective.”

Peter frowned. “Because they think I can’t do things like the rest of you?”

Carol shook her head and fixed her chocolate gaze on Peter. “Because we’ve already _failed you_ once.”

“Failed me? What are you—”

“We weren’t there when you needed us,” Carol interrupted. “When the whole world needed us, we left. And that left you to deal with whatever evils came around. To deal with. . . _everything_.”

Neither of them needed to clarify what ‘everything’ meant: The aftermath of Thanos; returning to his life after losing five years; rebuilding friendships and figuring out family; school and random teenage drama; fighting crime; being the face of the Avengers as the only reachable superhero; working with SHIELD, when even _Fury_ couldn’t stand to stick around (not that he’d admitted that or that anyone knew it at the time thanks to the Skrulls); grieving over Tony. . .

“You guys had stuff, too,” Pete offered softly.

Carol flashed him a sad smile and guided him over to a bench in the corner of the room, even farther away from everyone else. Peter sat down on the bench, with his back to the wall. Carol straddled the seat, looking at her friend. “After Thanos,” she began firmly, “we all turned tail and ran. We let the world down. But more than that, we let _you_ down, because we left you alone.”

“I did okay,” Peter grumbled.

“You were amazing,” Carol agreed. “But you shouldn’t have had to do on your own. And maybe the whole identity mess wouldn’t have happened if you’d had backup. Shit,” she let out a huff. “Maybe _none_ of it would have happened if you hadn’t been trying to juggle every damn thing by yourself. It’s no wonder you had a few blind spots.”

Peter looked down at the floor, shrugging.

With a sigh, Carol added, “We let Stark down.” That made the boy’s head snap in her direction. “Not only because we didn’t do right by you, although that’s a big no-no.” Carol waggled her finger in the air. “But what Stark did, at the end? It was because he was fighting for something, because he believed in something.”

“He said he wanted me to be better – not to make the mistakes he did,” Peter explained.

Carol nodded. “He wanted a better future. For all of us.” She looked thoughtful for a moment before amending her statement, “ _By_ all of us.”

“We can still have that,” Pete reminded her. “We’re working toward it. And we’re already much better than we were.”

“True,” Carol conceded. “But that doesn’t erase the stumbling blocks it took to get to this point.” Quickly, the Captain held up her hands. “I’m not saying that we should wallow in self-pity or let the past haunt us or anything like that. But we do need to remember what’s happened – to remember the mistakes so that we can avoid making them in the future.” She flipped her leg over the bench and they sat shoulder-to-shoulder. “Plus, it keeps us humble.”

Trying to lighten the mood, Pete chuckled. “Right. Because it’s not like we don’t have an array of big egos!” He waved his hand in front of him, referencing their friends. With a sly grin, he added, “And you, of course, are ever so humble.”

“Hey, I eat a big ol’ slice of humble pie every day!” Carol argued, nudging Peter’s shoulder with her own. They both laughed and then Pete leaned in against Carol.

“Thanks,” he told her.

“Just tellin’ it like it is,” she stated plainly. Then she stood up, and Pete stood with her. The blonde pulled the boy into a hug and squeezed him. In his ear, she whispered, “You are as much an Avenger as anyone else here – more, even. Sometimes, I think you’re the best out of all of us, Peter Parker.” She pulled back and looked in her friend’s eyes. “Don’t be so tough on Sam, huh?” Carol glanced over her shoulder, to where Sam was staring wide-eyed at Thor, who was loading up a plate with one huge slice of pizza after another.

Peter only nodded when Carol looked back at him and together, they crossed the cafeteria to join the others. When they stepped up, a small crowd was battling each other over pizza boxes, trying to figure out which box had what kind of toppings and which ones were the best and why.

Pete grabbed a slice of pizza, tugging on a long string of cheese. He dumped the slice on his plate, followed by another and a few other assorted items like cheesy bread and some BBQ wings.

Carol placed a hand on his shoulder. “Once you’re done eating,” she told him, “come find me. We’ll go talk to some of the other smarties and see if you guys can come up with something about the Multiverse.”

Peter nodded, but Carol was already gone. With a shrug, he made his way back to his original table, waiting for May and Happy to return. Thoughts of the Multiverse had Peter’s mind racing. He would have loved to have a sounding board, someone to bounce ideas off of and just as he had that thought, he broke out in a smile. Quickly, Pete pulled out his phone and shot off a text to Ned, asking him to call when he’s free so he can run some ideas by him. Then, while waiting for a reply and still brainstorming in his head, Peter tore into his pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be having ankle surgery literally tomorrow. Idk if that’s gonna allow me to write more, or less, but I will do what I can. And hopefully my next update won’t be too far away and will provide a lot more meat. I’ll see you all soon, and I appreciate your prayers, kind thoughts, and warm wishes!


	10. A tingle of madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint takes the first watch over Nathaniel; Rocket tries his hand at blackmail; Loki avoids sleep with a couple projects; Bucky and Val go for a swim; Stephen has a late-night guest; Cassie keeps getting reminders that she’s not an Avenger; & Morgan and Shuri work toward a scientific breakthrough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, y’all. A nice and meaty chapter! I tried to pack a lot in here for you guys. My ankle surgery went well – no walking for three more weeks. So, I was able to write this lovely, bulky chapter :) Hopefully, I’ll be able to crank out some more soon, but I also go back to work on Monday (boo). No promises on the timeframe of the next update, but I hope this one will hold ya over until it happens.

The summer gathering had been so promising at its start. The week before, the Bartons had excitedly packed for their annual trip to meet with the other Avengers. When they’d arrived that morning, Clint had been looking forward to time with friends and to focusing on _good_ memories.

Then Loki showed up.

And Clint had been bitter ever since.

Then, to make maters _worse_ , this random kid showed up with claims about the Multiverse and the promise of yet another destructive force looming. Awesome.

With a sigh, Clint sat back in the chair he’d been occupying for the last couple hours. He raised his arms above his head and stretched, cracking the joints in his neck and knuckles as he did. The one-way glass in front of him served to separate his small control-room styled space from the cell it looked in on. The archer let out a grunt of annoyance as he considered how much more comfortable the cell appeared – even if it only had bare walls, an old recliner, and a bed with sheets that looked like they came straight from a Motel 6, the cell was practically an oasis compared to Clint’s dark, dingy room with a shitty office chair with a squeaky wheel and a desk with uneven legs.

As he leaned back with a sigh, balancing precariously in the squeaky, wobbly chair, Clint heard a noise. He looked at the glass in front of him and saw the figure on the bed roll over and sit up.

The boy in the cell looked around before letting out a heavy sigh and, surprisingly, chuckling to himself. He shook his head as he mumbled, “The contingency cells. Really?”

Clint watched silently, curious what the kid would do if he thought he was alone.

To his continued surprise, the kid looked right at him. Well, not _at_ him, since that was impossible through the privacy glass. But he looked right at the one-way mirror, narrowing his eyes, apparently already certain that someone was on the other side.

“Hey, whoever’s on guard? Remind me – what’s your AI’s name? You don’t have JARVIS anymore right?”

Muted to their ‘guest,’ FRIDAY told Clint, “ _You can push the button on the desk to speak with him. Or, would you like me to respond?_ ”

“Go ahead, FRI. See what he wants,” Clint answered.

Then, in both rooms, FRIDAY said, “ _My name is FRIDAY, Sir. Can I be of assistance?_ ”

The kid glanced up and smiled. “Hi, FRIDAY. I’m Nathaniel,” he introduced himself politely. “It’s kinda hot in here. If that’s not part of some interrogation tactic, it’d be great if you could fix it.”

“ _Certainly, Nathaniel_ ,” FRIDAY told him, sounding almost relieved that it was such a simple request.

The kid scooted back so he could sit cross-legged on the bed, with his back against the wall. He closed his eyes and leaned back. “What does FRIDAY stand for?” Nathaniel asked, still looking way too relaxed for a prisoner, in Clint’s opinion.

FRIDAY hesitated and Clint said, “I don’t see why you shouldn’t tell him. I doubt it’s something that he could use against us.”

“ _JARVIS was my predecessor. FRIDAY is an anagram,_ ” FRIDAY told Nathaniel. “ _It stands for Female Replacement Intelligently Designed After You_.”

Nathaniel was quiet for a minute before smiling. “He really loved J, didn’t he?”

“ _Yes, Nathaniel_ ,” FRIDAY answered softly.

The kid opened his eyes and looked back toward the mirror. “You,” he said, nodding toward the glass, “are either trying very hard to intimidate me, or. . .” he paused and his smile grew wider. Then, he lifted his hands and started moving them in front of him.

“What’s he doing, FRI?” Clint asked, leaning forward and watching the movements. Part of him felt concerned, but there was also something oddly familiar—and unthreatening—about the gestures.

“ _It appears_ ,” FRIDAY began, sounding somewhat amused, “ _as though he is speaking in Sign Language, Hawkeye_.”

Clint rested his hands on the desk, only for it to wobble underneath him. He cursed under his breath before standing, folding his arms over his chest. “Why is he using ASL? Can you translate for me?”

“ _Of course. Actually, he’s speaking to you, Mr. Barton_.”

“To me?” Clint shook his head. “He knows I’m the one in here?”

“ _That’s his best guess, he says. Based on how silent you’re being._ ”

Finally giving into his curiosity, Clint pressed the button on the intercom. “What does my silence have to do with anything?”

Nathaniel stopped signing, mid-sentence presumably. The relaxed look he’d had faded and he looked confused. _Good_ , Clint thought.

“Hi, Clint, nice to talk to you, too, you shit-kicker,” the kid said playfully, recovering quickly from his lapse. Then he asked, “So, you’re _not_ deaf in this ‘verse?”

“The fuck?” Clint asked, realizing a minute too late that he had pressed the intercom again. Sighing, he asked, “Why would I be deaf?”

Leaning back against the wall, the kid shrugged. “In most universes, it’s from an abusive childhood. There were a couple times, though, when it was the result of an Avenger fight.”

Clint scoffed. “Well, my childhood was fine – not that it’s any of your fucking business. And there’s nothing wrong with my hearing.” Okay, so, maybe he had implants to help with some _minor_ hearing loss after Loki attacked New York. Whatever. That did not mean he was deaf, and it definitely wasn’t something this kid needed to know.

Nathaniel held his hands up toward the glass defensively. “Okay, be chill. I’m not used to all the differences here.”

“Well, don’t get too comfy,” Clint told him warningly.

The kid saluted, smirking softly. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes again, apparently content to just rest in his cell. That was fine by Clint. He had no desire to interrogate the teen. So they spent the remaining hour in silence.

By the time Hill and Okoye showed up to relieve him, Clint he was more than ready to leave. “Uneventful?” Hill asked.

Clint nodded. As the woman reached for the chair, Clint pointed. “That’s a piece of shit.” Then he jerked his head toward the mismatched leg of the desk. “So is that.”

“We’ll be careful,” Hill told him with a smirk as she cautiously settled into the untrustworthy chair.

Okoye kicked at the desk, making it wobble. “Perhaps we can see about some other arrangements.” The warrior glanced around the sparse room with disdain before leaning back against the wall. Clint figured she could probably stand there the entire four hours without problems, like some amped-up Buckingham Palace guard.

“Hey,” the kid’s voice made the three of them jerk their heads toward the glass. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. “Any chance I can get something to eat in here?”

Apparently without a second thought, Hill pressed down on the button to speak: “We’ll see what we can do.”

Nathaniel’s eyebrows shot up and he cocked his head to the side in curiosity. He stared at the mirror for a moment, obviously puzzling things through. Finally, he shook his head and looked down. Clint clicked his tongue – apparently, Hill’s voice wasn’t recognizable. Or maybe the kid just didn’t have anything to say to her. But the second that thought entered his mind, it was discarded. If Clint had to guess, he was pretty sure the teen was a rambler. Probably why he was using Stark’s technology; the two of them could most likely enjoy, or at least endure, hours of conversation with each other.

“Also,” Nathaniel said again, suddenly. “You guys realize there’s no bathroom in here, right? I mean, it’s not an issue _right now_ , but it will be eventually.”

Okoye frowned. Clint mirrored her expression. He actually hadn’t even thought about that. Hill merely waved a hand before pressing the intercom again. “See the handle in the corner of the north wall?”

Nathaniel stood up and placed himself in the center of the room, glancing around for a moment, apparently trying to orient himself. With a sigh, Hill decided to be merciful. “To your right.”

Clint, Okoye, and Nathaniel all looked at the wall Hill was referencing, where there was indeed something like a small doorknob. The kid walked over and gave it a tug. It opened, revealing a small room. Clint couldn’t see in, but he assumed it was some kind of half bath. Nathaniel smiled and closed the door.

“Thank you, Commander Hill,” he called out.

Hill turned around and looked at Clint, almost accusatorily. The former agent held his hands up in defense. “I didn’t tell him anything! I didn’t even know you were on the next watch.”

“ _It’s true,_ ” FRIDAY said, suddenly coming to Clint’s aid. “ _Nathaniel appears to know a great deal about all the Avengers_.”

“Too much, if you ask me,” Hill muttered under her breath. Okoye smirked, amused, but she gave a curt nod of agreement.

“Okay. FRIDAY, remember to tell Sam about the next shift bringing some food,” Clint said as he stretched and turned toward the door. “I’m outta here,” he announced, giving a small wave/salute to the women. Hill was staring at the kid through the glass and merely waved a hand behind her head in acknowledgement. Okoye nodded before also focusing her gaze on the window. It fell silent again and Clint was fine with that, content to leave without another word.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Rocket scanned the cafeteria, watching the Avengers eat and make polite albeit tense conversation. Everyone was on edge, but that kinda pressure was when Rocket thrived. His ears twitched as he heard a tinny, beeping noise. He looked over and saw Morgan, hunched over with a serious expression as she read the message that was, apparently, on the face of her watch. Suddenly, her head popped up, eyes wide. She gave a sheepish look to the people around her at the table, mumbled something about having to leave, gathered up her crap, then jumped up and tore off across the cafeteria. She stopped only to whisper something to the Wakandan princess, who looked equally frazzled and jumped up in a similar manner to Morgan. The two raced out of the cafeteria without another word or a glance back.

The raccoon’s curiosity burned and he considered following them.

But a far more pressing curiosity was niggling at him and that’s the one he had to follow.

So Rocket casually stood, threw his garbage away, and made his way over to the seat that the Starkling had recently vacated. As coolly as possible, Rocket slid into the seat, sideways so he could prop his elbow up on the table.

After a few seconds, there was a loud huff from the object of his attention. “If you’re just going to stare at me,” Loki began, in almost a teasing tone. He glanced down ever so slightly, so he could look toward Rocket. “You’d be better off buying me a drink, first.”

Rocket sniggered and reached up to twirl his whiskers. “Trust me,” he began, standing and stretching slightly. “If I wanted to woo someone, they would know they were being wooed.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth curled up the tiniest bit. “Is that so?” he asked as he took a small sip of whatever was in his cup – punch? Soda? Whatever it was, it definitely was not boozey enough for either of them.

Rocket leaned forward to rest his chin in his paws, looking up at Loki with as much innocence as he could muster (which, okay, maybe for him wasn’t really all that much, but it was the thought that counted, right?). With another sigh, although this one sounded far more amused than the first—which Rocket counted as a point in his favor—Loki turned so they were looking at each other proper.

“What can I do for you, Rocket?” Loki asked, a smirk playing on his face.

Rocket had to admit, the guy was definitely very pretty. But, this was about business and he had to be _professional_. “I believe I had mentioned previously,” Rocket began, in his most business-y tone, “that I have an interest in magic.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I have spent centuries learning to become a seiðr-master.” With a frown, he looked down his nose at the raccoon. “I am not about to just _give_ that kind of knowledge away.”

Rocket waved his paws in the air, as if in surrender. “No knowledge sharing needed. All ya gots to do is donate a little bit of excess magic; I know ya got plenty. I have these capsules and the way it works is—”

“No,” Loki interrupted.

“But this is for the benefit of everybody!” Rocket argued, bristling immediately. “See, the thing is this: Magic or power or whatever, it’s all _energy_. I collect that energy, and save it. In case of emergencies, y’know?”

Loki’s frown deepened. “You are not collecting my magic.”

Rocket growled deep in his throat. He slapped the table and looked away. “You’re just like Strange – he never listens, either.” After a moment of silence, Rocket looked back. There was an odd look on Loki’s face and Rocket felt something itching at him – like he’d just stumbled onto something and he need only tug a little bit for it to unravel.

But, Loki’s face had softened. And that seemed like a positive, which Rocket didn’t want to wreck by digging at something that might push the Trickster away. He would have to tread with caution, to make the conversation lean toward him getting what he wanted. Just as Rocket was about to speak, choosing his words with great care, Loki beat him to it.

“Let me consider your proposal. I will give you my answer in the morning.” Normally, Rocket would refuse to be brushed off; he would demand a person just tell him no right then and be done with it. But there was something in the blue-green eyes that seemed so. . . _heartfelt_ , that all Rocket could do was nod.

Loki patted the raccoon’s leg and then turned back to his plate, where there was half a breadstick and a chicken wing left. Quickly, Rocket hopped up on the table, snatching the wing off the plate and shoving it in his mouth. Loki chuckled softly, picking at the bread while Rocket sucked the chicken bone dry.

“Strange!” Wanda shouted suddenly, waving her arm.

Rocket turned and snarled at her, as she had yelled right in his ear. She gave him an apologetic look before glancing up, to where the good doctor was standing across from her.

“Yes, Wanda?” Strange asked softly, smiling down at her.

“Did you talk to Sam, about our arrangement?”

“What arrangement?” Rocket interjected, glancing between the two of them.

“For watching the newcomer,” Wanda explained. She looked back up at Strange with anticipation.

Rocket turned to look at the doctor but stopped cold when he saw Loki. He was sitting stiff as a board and staring down at his now-empty plate. With a quiet hum, Rocket leaned forward, sniffing the air. He froze when Loki glanced up and met his gaze.

“Holy shit,” Rocket muttered under his breath. Loki’s eyes widened. And, Rocket noticed, the coloration of his irises was almost completely gone, covered instead by the black of his dilated pupils. The air was heavy with the smell of lust and arousal. Rocket looked from Loki to Strange and back, and a wicked grin spread across his face.

“Yeah, I let him know,” Strange was saying. “He said he’ll put us on one of tomorrow’s mid-morning watches.”

“Perfect,” Wanda replied, sounding pleased.

“I have to go,” Loki announced, suddenly pushing up out of his seat. He tripped over himself as he rushed to stand.

“Watch it, Stilts,” Rocket teased, pointing towards the man’s lanky legs.

Strange noticed, too, as he reached out to catch the god. They touched for a brief moment and they both pulled away as quickly as it happened, with Loki hurrying out of the cafeteria in silence and Strange watching him go.

But as quickly as the two had broken contact, it wasn’t quick enough.

Rocket _saw_.

So, when Strange said goodbye to Wanda and waved to everyone before heading off down the hall, the raccoon followed him.

And when he went into his room, Rocket knocked on the door. Strange opened it and looked out, confusion on his face before Rocket cleared his throat and the man looked down.

“Rocket,” Strange greeted, his voice somewhat stilted. “What do you—”

“There was a spark,” Rocket blurted.

The doctor stared down at him, shook his head. “What?”

“You and Loki touched. And there was an actual, literal fucking _spark_.”

The next thing Rocket knew, he was being dragged by the ear into the doctor’s room. “You don’t know what you saw, okay?” Strange hissed, kneeling down in front of him.

“Oh, ho-ho!” Rocket chortled and rubbed his paws together greedily. “He’s the one I smelled on you this morning, isn’t he?!”

“Shh!” Strange glared at him.

Rocket gave him an incredulous look, making a show of glancing around the room. “Uh, we’re the only ones here, Doc.”

“And it better stay that way. You don’t know what you’re talking about, and you won’t say anything about what you _think_ to anyone, right?”

With that, Rocket grinned. He walked over to the bench-seat at the end of Strange’s bed and sat down, picking at his teeth. “I believe I now have what we call a bargaining chip, Doctor.”

Strange stood up and quirked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Rocket rested his paws behind him on either side and leaned back, eyeing the human curiously. After a moment, he jumped down and paced around the room. “Oh, y’know. You got somethin’ I want. Now, I’ve got somethin’ you want. Maybe we can help each other out?” He paused, looking over his shoulder to the man.

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

“Blackmail’s probably more accurate, but hey – you say tomato. . .” he stopped abruptly, then shook his head. “I forget the rest, but that’s not important.”

Strange surprised him by letting out a laugh. “You’re gonna try to blackmail me?”

“Oh, I’m not tryin’ anything. It’s happening,” Rocket replied, crossing his arms and squaring off against the other. “Now, I’ll keep quiet. The price for my silence is just a couple capsules full o’ your magic.”

“No,” Strange said adamantly.

Rocket’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? Because I’ll tell. I got a big mouth! I really will tell everybody!”

Strange flashed him a cunning smile. “No, you really won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?”

With a sigh, Strange leaned down again so they were face to face. “I’m still not confirming or denying anything—”

“You don’t have to. I saw. And I got other ways of knowing – like the stank that was on you earlier. And the way Loki reacted to you at the table just now.” Rocket looked deep into the man’s eyes and said, “No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I _know_.”

Strange cocked his head to the side. “The way Loki reacted?”

Rocket threw his head back and let out one of his famous cackles. “Don’t act like you don’t know!” He looked back at the wizard. “He was ready to jump your bones the second you strolled up.”

“Really?” Strange asked, straightening up and looking. . . genuinely surprised. And pleased.

“Shit. You really didn’t know. Which means I just helped you, didn’t I?” The raccoon ran a paw over his face in exasperation. “Okay, well, never mind. Proof positive. I know what I know, and you’re gonna hafta buy my silence.” With a second thought, he added, “And since you challenged me, the price just went up. I want double – that’s four capsules of your magic. Or, two of yours and two of Loki’s, cause I know how you humans are about equality and shit.”

Strange’s smile returned. It was kind of unnerving. “You can blackmail me all day long, Rocket. But do you really want to blackmail _Loki_?”

“Uh.” Rocket thought for a moment.

“Because, that’s what you’d be doing. It’d be his secret, too.” Then, with a smirk, Strange added, “Plus, you know, all that equality shit.”

Rocket scowled at the magician. And his scowl deepened when he realized the man was right. Rocket might feel confident enough – comfortable, even – in taking on Stephen Strange, the human wizard. But trying to take on Loki, the fucking Frost Giant, God of Chaos, with magic comin’ out his yin-yang and a history of a temper and desire for ruling over beings that he considered lesser than him? Yeah, Rocket wasn’t touching that with a ten-foot pole.

“Fine,” Rocket muttered as he marched toward the door. “I’ll leave, but because I’m choosing to.” He stopped in the doorway and pointed at Strange. “And I’ll keep quiet, for now. But that’s only because it’ll be way more interesting to see what Thor does to you when he finds out you’re fucking his baby brother.”

That definitely shut Strange up.

So Rocket sneered deviously at him before he jumped up, opened the door, and exited, having had the last word.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Loki wandered around the room – _his_ room, looking at the various pieces of furniture and knick-knacks and decorative items that had been placed there. He took another shower, which was just as heavenly as the one he’d taken the day before. He’d been living ‘off the grid’ for so long that he’d almost forgotten what actual water pressure—or quality—felt like.

He changed back into a tunic and leggings, opting for comfort rather than trying to fit in with the Midgardians. Then the Trickster made his way out of the bathroom suite into the main room. There was a desk in the corner, where Loki sat himself. He purposely avoided looking at the bed, which sat in the middle of the room.

It looked perfectly comfortable and inviting. And yet, there was something ominous about it. The mere thought of sleep made Loki’s skin crawl. Because that always brought nightmares. Memories that could be kept at bay during the day with distractions always came bursting to life at night. Without fail.

Except. . .

Loki shook his head. That couldn’t be right.

He wracked his brain. And sure enough, he couldn’t recall a single night without nightmares, save for one.

“Strange,” he grumbled to himself – meaning both the adjective and man.

How could it be that the _only_ night Loki didn’t have a nightmare was the night he spent with Stephen Strange? Loki knew better than to believe in coincidences. Perhaps it was just the fact that he hadn’t been sleeping alone? But then again, there had been times when he’d slept in the presence of others – on the ship he snuck aboard to get off the Chitauri planet, or in that weird den of murderers he’d come across in New York just months prior.

In fact, there had been several nights in a row when he hadn't been alone, not even that long ago. He’d helped a mercenary who’d been enhanced so that he apparently couldn’t die (a theory that both he and Loki had been way too tempted to test). In exchange for his help, the mage had earned a place to sleep for a few nights. He’d never liked the idea of being indebted to someone and the merc seemed to feel the same way, wanting to repay the favor of getting him out of a bind. Plus, Loki had been grotesquely fascinated with the way the man’s amputated limbs _grew_ back.

So, no, it wasn’t just the idea of not sleeping on his own that made the nightmares go away. Because even with that merc lying limbless on a couch across from him, Loki had still jolted to alertness from night terrors – which led to him spending the remaining time awake and listening to stories from the other man, who apparently wasn’t a fan of sleep either.

In the Avengers Compound, Loki couldn’t hold back the fond smile that came when he thought of the masked idiot. He wondered if the man had managed to keep his body parts attached in the months since Loki had seen him last.

Suddenly, Loki wondered if it was the fact that the merc had been injured that made the difference. Maybe it was because when he stayed with Strange, he knew the man was capable of protecting him if needed – but Loki waved that idea away instantly, because of course he didn’t need _protection_. Besides, the thought of sharing a room with Thor or Valkyrie or even someone else who was relatively competent, such as Barnes, didn’t quell the hammering in his chest quite the same way as when he thought of the safety and sheer comfort he’d felt with Strange lying next to him.

Closing his eyes, Loki let out a soft breath as he thought back to the night before. He ghosted his fingers across his lips, remembering the other’s mouth on his own and the feel of hands wandering his body, and arms around him. . .

Loki shook his head and opened his eyes, clearing his throat as he pulled himself out of the memory.

Finally, he decided that he would just avoid sleep. It was still too early for bed, anyway. Loki reached into his Pocket Dimension and produced two items. One was a gem, which he set on the desk. The other was a plain, black coat of high-quality Asgardian craftsmanship. He decided to work on the coat first.

He tailored the coat, resizing it for a much smaller body. Then, ensuring that the physical pockets remained functional, he located a smaller pocket on the inner lining of the garment and spelled it. _That_ pocket would allow the wearer to access a Pocket Dimension, which would be uniquely tied to the coat. After a bit of toying around with the sorcerery, Loki smiled as he held the coat up, ready to consider it completed. He folded it up and returned it to his own Pocket Dimension for safe-keeping until he could gift it to its new owner the following day.

Next, Loki reached for the gem on the desk. It was a stone he had found in his youth with Thor, on the banks of the River Iving. Despite its frigid temperatures, the river never froze. It wasn’t until centuries later that Loki would finally disobey his father’s mandate and follow the River – discovering the hidden path between worlds, and providing him with a back-entrance into Jötunheim.

But long before that, when he was still just a boy, he and Thor had only played on the banks of Iving under the close supervision of Odin and Frigga. They’d never dared to go farther than they were allowed and that had been fine, because they were only children then. One day, Loki had dipped his hand into the stream and found a stone. Amazingly, the gem had felt hot in Loki’s hand when he had plucked it from the chilled waters. He had shown it to his parents and his mother had asked Odin to bless it in the Roaring Kettle, Hvergelmir – the source of all rivers, and one of three Wells at the base of the World Tree. Odin had done so and returned it to Loki, much to the Trickster’s shock and awe.

Even now, the gem burned in Loki’s palm. And it twinkled with the magic of the Kettle. Loki squeezed the stone tightly, smiling as he felt the magic of Yggdrasil flowing through it, as a direct result of Odin having dipped it in the great Well all those centuries ago.

Muttering a few ancient words, Loki blew his breath across the stone, casting a spell on it for a certain purpose and infusing some of his own seiðr in it for good measure. It sparkled and shimmered briefly, before fading back to its usual shine – which was still quite magnificent. It should now allow a user to accomplish any medium-sized feat three times. Hopefully, that would be sufficient. With a smile, Loki pocketed the gem to store with the coat for the time being.

Finally out of projects, Loki turned in the chair and stared challengingly at the bed. He yawned, against his own will and scowled. He was tired, especially from the use of his seiðr over the last couple hours. But he knew what lurked in the darkness of night, in the recesses of his mind – and he had no desire to experience that pain, that _panic_.

That’s when he felt it.

“You have got to be joking,” Loki muttered aloud. He felt something warm slide over him and had to whip around to make sure he was still alone. The fact that he was actually seemed to be more disconcerting – because it meant that the effect Strange had on him was getting worse.

Or maybe it was getting _better_.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, Loki decided to let Chaos reign. He stood and left his room, following the pull as it led him down the halls. He knew it was probably a terrible idea. But then again, those had always been his favorite.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Bucky surfaced from the chlorinated water with a gasp. He reached up and wiped water from his eyes, shaking his hair out. Apparently, Sam had put him down for an early morning watch over the kid that Carol and the others had brought back. Since sleep wasn’t much of a friend, he’d decided to go for a swim.

He dove under, taking another lap across the pool. This time, when he came back up on the other side, he grabbed onto the edge and held himself there for a minute while he caught his breath.

“Not bad, _Bucky_ ,” Valkyrie’s teasing voice made the man jump and he dipped under the water to hide his surprise. When he resurfaced, Val was sitting on the edge, kicking her feet in the water lazily.

“People don’t normally sneak up on me,” Bucky told her. He drifted over toward her, treading water once he got close enough. “You only managed to because I was underwater.”

Val rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Sure, sure.”

Then, with a devious grin, Bucky surged forward, grabbing the woman’s leg and dragging her into the pool. She let out a yelp as she slipped under. When she came back up, sputtering, she splashed water in the Soldier’s face. “You arse!”

Bucky only laughed, leaning so he was floating on his back. “You loved it,” he finally said, staring up at the vaulted ceilings of the swimming area.

“I could drown you right now and nobody would know,” Valkyrie threatened. But there was no heat to her voice. So Bucky just smiled and closed his eyes, content to keep floating.

Apparently, Val had other ideas. Bucky opened his eyes and looked up into Valkyrie’s face with a sigh. “You’re blocking my float-path.”

“Your _float-path_?” Val repeated with a snicker. Bucky rolled over, righting himself so he was standing in the water in front of the warrior.

“Yeah, it’s like a flight-path, but floating.” Bucky told her. When Val raised an eyebrow, the man held his hands up. “It’s a thing, I swear!”

“You’re an idiot.” Val muttered fondly. Then she wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck, lifting her legs to wrap around his midsection, letting him and the water hold her weight. With a soft breath, Bucky put his hands on Val’s hips.

“Hi,” he said quietly. Their faces were inches apart.

“See?” she whispered. “Idiot.” Then she kissed him. He kissed back, moving his hands around her back to hold her more securely. When Val pulled away, she smiled. “I have an idea.”

She didn’t wait for a response before reaching one arm behind her head and tugging on the string at her neck, untying her bathing suit. Bucky quickly reached his flesh arm up—holding onto her with his stronger metal arm—to keep the suit from falling off as the Valkyrie intended. She pouted.

Bucky licked his lips and took a steadying breath. “What if someone comes in here?”

Val’s lip curled up devilishly. “So what if they do?” At Bucky’s wide eyes, the Asgardian threw her head back and laughed. Bucky couldn’t help smiling, realizing he liked the sound of her laugh as it echoed through the acoustics of the space. “It’s getting late. Everybody will be going to bed. No one is coming in here,” Val insisted. She dropped her eyes down to where Bucky’s hand still rested at her shoulder, holding her suit in place, then she met his gaze again and looked at him expectantly.

“We could have FRIDAY lock the doors?” Bucky suggested.

Valkyrie shrugged. “We could do that. Or not.” She grabbed his wrist and gently pulled. He didn’t fight her, allowing his hand to be removed from her shoulder. Her swim-top fell immediately after. “I mean, isn’t it kind of exciting, knowing that someone _could_ walk in, even if they _probably_ won’t?”

Bucky chuckled, moving his hand back down to the woman’s waist. He briefly let his eyes trail down to her exposed chest before looking back up at her face. “You’re a terrible influence.”

“The worst,” Val agreed. Bucky only smiled in response before leaning forward to devour her neck.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Dr. Strange placed his toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and closed it, flicking off the bathroom light as he stepped out of the en suite. He crossed over to his bed, pulling back the covers. It was a warmer night, so he pulled off the t-shirt he’d been wearing, leaving him just in a pair of sweats. Just when he was leaning forward, ready to all but fall into bed, there was a soft knock on the door.

Stephen leaned his palms on the bed and groaned. Rolling his eyes, he spun on his heel and padded over to the door.

“What?” he growled as the door swung open, half expecting Rocket to be back to pester him. But his gaze immediately softened when he saw who was standing there.

“Is this a bad time?” Loki asked, his eyes wide.

“No,” Stephen replied. He shook his head. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you.”

An odd look, almost like _hurt_ , flashed across Loki’s face. He covered it up quickly and tried to sound indifferent as he asked, “Whom were you expecting?”

Stephen gave him a small smile. “Nobody, actually.”

With a click of his tongue, Loki half-turned in the doorway so that he was partially facing the hall. “Well, I can go, then, if you’d rather—”

“No!” Stephen immediately hated himself for the urgency in his voice. “I just,” he paused to clear his throat. “I mean, no, you don’t have to go.” In an attempt to collect himself, he moved aside, waving an arm out next to him. “Would you like to come in?”

Loki smiled and stepped through the doorway. Stephen closed the door and then turned back, watching as Loki clasped his hands behind his back and took a few cautious steps into the room. Suddenly, he spun around with a very serious look on his face. “So, about last night.”

Stephen stared, wide-eyed. He lifted a hand to his mouth as he let out a nervous little cough, only just then remembering that he was shirtless and that made him feel all too exposed. Loki seemed to notice it right then, as well, because his eyes trailed down from Stephen’s face to his chest and abs, dropping down all the way to the floor to notice the doctor’s bare feet before flicking that intense gaze back up to meet Stephen’s eyes.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Stephen sighed. “Yeah, last night,” he began. Although he wasn’t entirely sure what to say next, and he was immensely curious about what Loki had to say.

The Trickster took a few steps forward, putting his gazelle legs to good use as he closed the distance between them, stopping mere inches from Stephen’s face. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in a repeat performance.”

Stephen arched an eyebrow and stared at Loki, waiting for something else or some kind of punchline or something. Then, finally, he asked, “Are you serious?”

Loki did that soft, throaty chuckle that made Stephen’s heart flutter. “Very,” he purred. He placed a hand on Strange’s bare chest, looking at it for a moment before glancing up to peer at him through his eyelashes. “If that’s something you’d want, that is.”

Without a second thought, Stephen breathed out, “Yes.”

A smile spread across Loki’s face. And it was a genuine one, the kind that went all the way up to his eyes. Then, leaning forward ever so slightly, Loki whispered, “You can kiss me now.”

Stephen let out a breathy laugh. “I could do that.”

“I know you can,” Loki replied. He smirked before taking the initiative, pressing his lips to Strange’s. It was soft but quickly built, until Loki’s arms were around Stephen’s neck and the Sorcerer wrapped his arms around those slender hips before tugging the mage closer to him. Loki’s tongue slid across Stephen’s lips, which the doctor was more than happy to oblige, parting his lips so that Silvertongue could work its own particular brand of magic, battling with his own tongue.

When they finally pulled apart, purely out of the necessity to breathe, Stephen pressed his forehead against Loki’s. Panting, he asked, “Wait, was that your way of telling me I’m a good kisser?”

Loki leaned back slightly to look at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. Thinking back on their conversation from just before they kissed, Loki laughed. “I suppose so.” He leaned forward and pecked Stephen’s lips again before pulling away. He took a couple steps backward, grabbing Stephen’s hands before they got too far apart. The god gave a small tug and the man willingly followed him over to the bed. Loki sat down, letting the Sorcerer Supreme straddle him. He leaned back against the bed, smiling into the kiss that Stephen pressed to his lips. As the kiss deepened and Stephen settled on top of the Trickster, he couldn’t help but smile, too, at the way his own warmth mingled with the oddly cool feeling of Loki’s lips. And for a change, the usually-in-control Stephen Strange felt a tingle of madness, of mischief, of _chaos_.

And he liked it.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Cassie hurried down the hall, wearing a hoodie. She kept her hands in her pockets and muttered to herself about her own idiocy. Supper had ended a couple hours ago and she’d immediately gotten into a fight with her dad. They fought all the time anymore, it seemed. She’s asked him to see if Sam would let her take one of the watches over the new person they’d talked about. Of course, her dad had refused to even bring it up to Sam. After going around in circles for a bit, he’d finally told her it was for “Avengers only.”

So she’d stormed out. To clear her head, Cassie had gone walking outside. She’d gone down to the stables, through the pasture and a wide, open field. She made her way into the trees, past the clearing where they all went to have bonfires. In the safety of the trees, Cassie pulled out the gauntlets from the old suit she and Ava had _borrowed_ from Hank years prior.

For the next hour and a half, she practiced.

She darted through the trees, jumping over stumps and climbing up branches, switching from regular-sized to miniature. There were millions of insects and bugs and arachnids in the forest behind the Compound, and many of them were more than willing to help Cassie maneuver around. A couple ants even seemed like they were sparring with her, as she worked on her hand-to-hand combat skills.

It had been marvelous.

Right up until it wasn’t.

When Cassie finally reached the room she shared with Ava, she entered and let out a sigh of relief, slamming the door behind her as she saw her friend sitting on one of the beds, reading. Ava put her book down and looked at Cassie curiously before standing and letting out an exasperated breath. “Please tell me you didn’t do something stupid.”

“I did not do anything stupid,” Cassie repeated. Then, quietly, she added, “On purpose.”

“Cass!” Ava exclaimed, stomping her foot. She rushed forward. “Out with it,” she insisted, glaring at the brunette.

Cassie rolled her eyes but pulled her hands out of her pockets, revealing what she was hiding. The gauntlets were still attached to her wrists. On one of them, the Quantum particle accelerator was badly damaged.

“What in hell happened?!” Ava asked, pulling the piece of metal off Cassie’s wrist with an incredulous look.

“It was an accident,” Cassie swore. “I was out in the wooded area, just testing it out and like, practicing some stuff. And I may have, accidentally, sort of. . .” she bit her lip. Ava gave her a look and she sighed. “I pressed a wrong button and kinda threw myself into a tree?” She let out a breathy laugh, then winced.

Ava narrowed her eyes. Clutching the broken accelerator in one hand, she waved the other hand at Cassie in a vague gesture. “Let’s see,” she ordered. So, Cassie pulled off the hoodie, followed by her t-shirt. Standing in just her jeans and a bra, she turned around to reveal an ugly bruise across her back, wrapping around to parts of her stomach.

Ava gasped and shook her head, her fingers hovering over the black, yellow, and purple skin. Cassie put her shirt back on, gingerly. “I’m fine. It’s just a bruise. Maybe a couple of, y’know, rib issues.” She held a hand up. “But I’ll be fine!”

“Yeah?” Ava asked, apparently not believing her. “And how are you gonna explain that to Scott?”

Cassie arched a brow. “Um, I’m not gonna tell him. Obviously.”

“Cassie!” Ava groaned, backing up and dropping down on the bed. She set the accelerator on the comforter and put her head in her hands. “This is why you’re not supposed to be doing shit like that!”

With a scoff, Cassie sat on the bed across from Ava. “So what, you agree with him now?”

Ava lifted her head up and stared at her friend disbelievingly. “ _Now_?” she asked. “Cass, I have agreed with him the whole time!”

Cassie jumped to her feet, instantly regretting it as she let out a hiss of pain. She ignored it and glared down at the other girl. “I’m not a little kid!”

“Then don’t act like one,” Ava shot back, her gaze menacing.

“You’re an Avenger. Peter’s an Avenger. Hell, Clint’s training his kids to fight!”

Ava shook her head. “Yeah, he’s training them. Doesn’t mean they’re actually fighting. And doesn’t mean they’re ready to fight.” Then she sighed and her voice softened. “And I _know_ that you’re gonna say that Scott won’t even train you, but Scott is not Clint.” With another sudden change (which, by now, Cassie had become used to the rollercoaster that was Ava Starr), Ava’s anger returned. “And you are not me, nor are you Peter.”

“Meaning,” Cassie said, sitting back down defeatedly. “I don’t have powers. So I’m supposed to just sit on the sidelines.”

“Don’t twist my words,” Ava told her sternly.

“The only ‘powers’ my dad and Hope have are their suits. But they’re Avengers!” Cassie nodded toward the particle accelerator.

Ava picked up the device and held it out to Cassie pointedly. “They’re adults, and _they_ obviously know how to use these.”

“Oh,” Cassie crossed the room, carefully reaching down to pick up the hoodie she’d dropped by the door. “I didn’t realize Hank was here.”

“Shut it,” Ava retorted. “I’m trying to help you, Cass – I’m trying to keep you _alive_.”

“And I’m trying to help everyone!” Cassie all but yelled back. “You heard what people were saying at the meal tonight, Ghost.” The brown-haired girl’s voice quieted and she looked at her friend sadly. “And you saw how it affected everybody: They’re all scared. If something does happen, I don’t want to just sit back, helpless, while the people I love put their lives on the line for the whole world. Again.”

They stared at each other for a minute before Ava finally let out a huff. “I know.”

Cassie scratched her head and glanced toward the Quantum device. “So, you’ll help me fix that?”

“You—you’re joking, right?” Ava shook her head. “I told you, Hank’s already up my arse about the suits and materials. I don’t even know _how_ to fix this!”

Cassie stepped forward and pointed to a spot on the device. “I think I can put it back together, if you can get me a new particle container to put in there.”

“And more Pym particles, you mean?” Ava added, noting that the device was empty. At Cassie’s sheepish look, Ava rolled her eyes. “I really hate you, y’know that?”

A knock on the door made them both jump. Cassie winced again as she quickly sat on the bed, while Ava hurried to tuck the particle device under her pillow before sitting on her own bed. “Come in!” they both called at the same time.

The door opened and Hope peeked in, raising a brow. “Yeah, because nothing about this,” she pointed toward the two girls perched on the edge of the beds, “is suspicious at all.”

“What’s up?” Cassie asked with a smile, hoping she sounded nonchalant.

“Your dad’s in bed,” the woman told Cassie. “I have guard duty for our mysterious guest in about an hour. Sam and I thought maybe you’d like to join me, Ava?”

“Sure,” Ghost replied.

“I was gonna take some supper down to him, if you wanna help me get some stuff together? Then we can head down there.” Hope suggested.

Ava nodded, standing and shooting an apologetic look toward Cassie as she made her way over to the door. Once she was there, Hope gave Cassie a conspiratorial smile. “And,” she added, “since I know you’re dying to find out, why don’t you come down with us?”

Cassie leapt to her feet. “Seriously?” she asked, suddenly forgetting all about her bruised ribs.

“Seriously,” Hope answered with a laugh.

“Dad’s not gonna like it,” Cassie stated with a frown.

Hope sighed, but shrugged. “If I invite you now, maybe you’ll get it out of your system and save us the hassle of you trying to sneak down there later.”

Ava snorted. “She’s got you pegged.”

Cassie stuck her tongue out and pulled her hoodie on – ready with the pretense that it was chilly in the Compound at night if anybody were to ask. Once she reached the door, Hope held up a hand. “Only to deliver the food, okay? Then, Ava and I are on duty and you’re coming back here to go to bed.” There was a sternness to her voice that left no room for arguments.

“Okay,” Cassie told her with a genuine smile. She couldn’t even be mad about the limitations. It was already way more than anyone had _trusted_ her with for as long as she could remember. So she forced her enthusiasm and curiosity to stay on the DL, not wanting to blow the chance that Hope was extending to her.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

“It’s taking _forever_ ,” Morgan complained loudly into the crook of her elbow. She lifted her head from where she’d laid it on her arms.

After getting the notice on her watch that their calculations had finished running and most of the work they were processing was complete, Morgan and Shuri had bolted to Morgan’s lab. They’d checked everything out multiple times and everything seemed ready. All Shuri had to do was connect a few of the devices she’d smuggled in from Wakanda and then get the power sources going.

That was easier said than done.

Because even though everything appeared to be in order and, in theory, should be working, nothing was happening.

The Princess was still standing in the middle of the room, tablet in hand. For the last 45 minutes, the process had been the same: Shuri would type furiously, look up at the _body_ on the table in front of her, glance at the tablet to tap a few buttons, look back up, and wait. Then, with a growl, she would start the cycle over again.

“Don’t rush me,” Shuri mumbled for the hundredth time. Finally, after she’d waited for something to happen, to no avail, she dropped the tablet and jumped to her feet. She paced around the room, muttering to herself in Wakandan.

With a sigh, Morgan pulled her hulking laptop toward her. She pulled up the figures from her original, hypothetical chart and studied them for a few minutes before crossing the room. The girl paused, looking at the _shell_ of Vision laid out in front of her with a kind of reverence. Sucking in a shuddering breath, she grabbed Shuri’s tablet and compared the readouts with the theoretical data she’d come up with. Then, she looked down and groaned.

“You haven’t even tried hooking anything up?” Morgan reached for cords that were attached to the capsules – very elegantly pieced together via car jumper cables, courtesy of one Morgan Stark. But Shuri rushed over and slapped Morgan’s hand away.

“And we aren’t going to hook anything up until we know for sure that it’s going to work!”

Morgan rolled her eyes but nodded. Shuri sighed and turned away. “Or,” Morgan said softly, a devious grin on her face. “We could just plug it in and see what happens.” Then, before Shuri could turn back around and stop her, Morgan connected the cord to the charging base they’d devised.

Shuri swore in Wakandan and reached to unplug the capsules but this time she was stopped by Morgan. “Look,” the younger girl whispered, pointing.

Following Morgan’s gesture, Shuri’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Where Vision’s body had previously been completely unreactive, there was now a red glow encasing him. An alarm started blaring from Shuri’s tablet. She snatched it up and tapped a few rapid sequences. Her eyes still hadn’t returned to their normal size.

Morgan couldn’t blink or look away. She finally managed to close her mouth and swallowed harshly, her throat dry from having had her jaw dropped for so long (which she hadn’t even realized).

“It’s working.” Shuri finally stated, so quietly that Morgan almost didn’t hear it.

Before either of them could say anything else, there was a loud noise – something akin to a sonic-boom – and the red glow quickly shifted to gold. A loud whining and whooshing sound filled the space and both girls had to cover their ears.

“Connect you Reactor!” Shuri shouted over the din, nodding toward the device.

Morgan did as she was told, rushing to the desk to grab the Reactor and then hurrying back to stand beside the table. She waved one hand quickly through the now-golden aura of energy, making sure she could actually pass through it and that it wouldn’t hurt her. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her mind, forcing her hands to stop shaking. Then, Morgan placed the miniature Reactor in the center of Vision’s forehead, in lieu of the Mind Stone.

The roar of noise stopped suddenly and the golden energy blinked out. Morgan and Shuri stared at each other, concern etched on their faces. Just as Shuri opened her mouth to speak, the Reactor started humming and glowing. The light started out as a faint blue but quickly increased in intensity until both girls had to shield their eyes. The entire room lit up and the humming grew to a piercing ringing noise.

There was a crackle of static, followed by the bursting of every lightbulb in the room. Morgan let out a yelp and Shuri dropped to her knees. They both covered their heads with their arms, trying to avoid getting hit by shards of the shattered bulbs. The only light in the lab was from the Reactor, and it was _blinding_. Morgan couldn’t see anything – didn’t even know where Shuri was. The ringing noise was so loud, it deceptively made it seem like there was no sound at all. Briefly, Morgan remembered a video she’d watched in school about the atom bomb, how bright it had been and the muffled sound of it exploding before there was just nothingness.

That was the last, morbid thought Morgan had before suddenly being engulfed by darkness and sound disappearing entirely. In fact, Morgan was pretty sure the earth stopped spinning for a solid minute and all she could hear was blood hammering in her ears. Everything was still pitch black, so she put her hand forward, finding the table in front of her to lean on.

Then, breaking through the darkness and the silence, there was a gasping inhale and a single, small pinprick of brilliant white light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER. Whaaaaaaaat? Sorry for being mean (except, I’m not actually that sorry, hehe). Quick thanks to AMidnightDreary (AO3) for the line about referring to Loki as “Stilts” bc she totally came up w/ that & then gave me permission to steal it. Go read AMD’s stuff, it’s excellent. 
> 
> Also, in case anyone’s wondering: The merc Loki talks about here is definitely Deadpool. And yes, I totally wrote in references to Deadpool just in case I decide to bring him into the story later on – not sure yet if I will, but I have no self-control when it comes to my love for DP so I figured I’d throw in the option, should the opportunity presents itself later. :P kkthanks, bye for now loves!
> 
> Oh, PS! I just posted a new fic (bc I lack restraint), which is more of an Endgame fix-it and mostly me being salty about how MCU explained time travel. It’s up and called “The Sands of Time.” I will be working on that one, too, if anybody wants to read it. Check out my works and let me know what you think of that one – it’s also super Loki-centric! But FrostIron rather than FrostStrange, bc I am forever torn between the two pairings.


	11. Ace of Spades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel reveals where he might be vulnerable; Morgan & Shuri make a new friend; Scott calls for backup; & Breakfast is apparently a time for really deep, heated conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really had some plans for this chapter to get super plot-heavy. Then Clint Barton showed up and was like, “Nah, my time to shine.” Once again, I say, I am not in charge at all. These damn characters. Anyway, buckle up bc next chapter is gon’ get REAL.
> 
> PS. Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

Nathaniel stared up at the off-white ceiling and let out a long sigh. He couldn’t really keep track, but his best estimate was that it had been almost four hours. For probably the first hour and a half, Hill hadn’t said much else besides now and then asking if he needed anything, confirming that food would be brought eventually, et cetera. But otherwise, it as silent. Finally, Hill started asking intermittent questions, asking if Nate was ready to talk or if he had anything to share.

“Not unless you’ve got the entire Avengers Initiative in there with you, Maria,” he had stated.

That seemed to be enough and Hill didn’t ask any more questions. Nathaniel closed his eyes and shifted on the bed, folding his arms behind his head and trying to relax. If that was even possible.

He’d just started to doze off when he heard the door clicking. He sat up just in time to see it swing open and watch Ava Starr walk in with a tray-full of food. She closed the door behind her, then turned to face Nathaniel.

“I’ve got some pizza,” Ava said, tilting the tray slightly so Nate could see its contents. The plate had a few slices of pepperoni along with the usual foods that accompanied pizza. There was a can of Sprite, and a cup with ice. With a sharp inhale, Ava stepped forward to set the tray down on the edge of the bed. Nathaniel just stared at her, wide-eyed. Clearing her throat, Ava backed up until she was right by the door. She turned and reached for the handle of the door.

“Ghost.” Nathaniel breathed out, standing up and overcome with a sudden desperation to keep her from leaving. Ava glanced over her shoulder, evaluating Nathaniel through suspicious eyes. “How, um—” Nate licked his lips, considering just what to say. Finally, he let out a breathy laugh. “I know you don’t me, but I’ve known you. Or, at least, versions of you.”

Ava frowned, and all Nathaniel could do was chuckle.

Shakily, Nate told her, “It’s _really_ good to see you, Ghost.” Nate looked down, feeling tears sting his eyes. He’d avoided asking Scott, mostly because there’d been too much going on and he’d been too stunned to even see the man alive and well. Now, the question was thundering in his head. So, in a quiet voice, he asked, “How’s Cassie?’

The intercom crackled. “Ghost, get in here.”

“Hope?” Nathaniel’s head snapped toward the one-way glass.

“Ava. Now!” Hope’s voice sounded frantic. Ava bolted toward the glass, dematerializing as she passed through the solid surface.

Nathaniel could only think of one reason why Hope wouldn’t want Ava to stay and talk to him. And he couldn’t stop himself. He tried to follow Ava, slamming into the wall and standing there with his forehead leaned against it. After a few deep breaths, Nathaniel sighed and staggered backward from the wall. He looked into the glass.

“Cass?” Nathaniel asked, staring at his reflection in the dark window.

There was nothing for a long time. Nathaniel’s heart was hammering against chest and he found himself wishing someone would talk to him, that someone would ask him to talk. If Cassie was _there_? Well. That might change things for him.

Finally, Hope spoke again: “You should eat your food.”

Nate’s heart plummeted. He stalked back over to the bed and stared down at the food. His stomach had been roaring before, but now he didn’t feel like eating. He moved over to the armchair and sat down, pulling his legs up and tucking them against his chest.

“Suit yourself,” Hope said softly. Her voice sounded frustrated, and slightly defeated.

Nathaniel knew the feeling.

Without another word, Nate curled up into a ball on the chair and closed his eyes, forcing himself to go to sleep.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

“Morgan?” Shuri’s voice called out in a harsh whisper.

“Here,” Morgan replied, letting out a cough as dust settled around her. Had the little bunker been shaking?

“What just happened?” Shuri asked, sounding closer.

Morgan reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, clicking on the flashlight function. She raised it just in time to almost blind her friend. Shuri threw her hands in front of her eyes to block out the light. “Sorry!” she hissed, lowering her phone from Shuri’s face. Then, with a sigh, Morgan made a slow circle, trying to assess damage with the light from her phone.

Glass crunched under Morgan’s work-boots, from the lightbulbs that had burst. Her guess about whether the shack had been shaking was confirmed when she saw many of her tools, devices, and other various do-dads had tipped over or fallen off counters entirely.

When she turned to the table she’d been working at, she froze. “Shuri?” Morgan whispered, her voice ready to crack.

“What is it?” Shuri asked, stepping up beside Morgan and grabbing her shoulder as a kind of anchor in the darkness.

“Where’s Vision?”

Shuri let out a gasp, as her gaze must have finally fallen to the now-empty table where Morgan was shining her light. Quickly, Morgan swirled the light to the ground around the table, in case the _body_ had fallen off. But there was nothing there.

“This isn’t _The Walking Dead_ ; corpses don’t just get up and walk away!” Morgan hissed.

That’s when she heard it: A shuffling noise, and a soft groan from the corner of the room.

Whirling around so fast that she almost lost her balance, Morgan aimed her flashlight toward the corner, where a bright dot of white light flickered before fading out. “Shit,” she breathed out. Then, she was moving across the lab, as quickly and carefully as she could in total darkness.

“Morgan!” Shuri yelled after her, trying to grab her arm but just missing her. There was a loud clattering noise following by mumbled swears as Shuri attempted to follow Morgan. She could pinpoint the girl based on where the flashlight was, but that didn’t make the path any easier to navigate blindly.

In the corner, Morgan hesitated for only a second before dropping to her knees. She held her phone out, shining the light directly in front of her.

“ _Demethi_. _Sifile_!” Shuri exclaimed. “ _Sizakwenza ntoni_?” Morgan could hear the Princess throw her arms out to the side. “ _Siyicacisa njani le_?”

Morgan glanced over her shoulder. “Language barrier much?” she growled.

Then she felt Shuri’s hand on her shoulder. “Is he. . .” her voice trailed off as she lowered herself to the ground next to the younger girl.

Carefully, Morgan reached toward the figure in front of her. Her hand hovered over his heart. She paused. Did androids even have hearts? Unsure, Morgan raised her flashlight from the chest to the face. With a gasp, the girl fell backward, landing hard on her butt. Her jaw dropped as she watched the being change in front of her. The red and gold mechanized figure faded, replaced by the appearance of. . . a man. Just, a man. Tall, thin, with light skin and blondish hair.

Shuri didn’t say a word, apparently rendered speechless. Then, there was a bunch of scuffling followed by a click and more light, as Shuri pulled her phone out and turned on the light, too.

Morgan sat up on her knees and cleared her throat. “Um. Vision?” she asked softly.

Shuri shined her light on her friend, giving her a worried look.

“Hang on,” Morgan urged. Then, with a gulp, she leaned forward. She reached forward and as she gently patted the man’s shoulder, she again asked, “Vision?”

Morgan blew a puff of air, moving hair out of her face. Then, she reached forward and gave a forceful shove, shouting, “Vision!”

Vision’s eyes flew open and he let out a noise like a yowl. Shuri tipped over and started scrambling backwards on the floor. Morgan yelped out of surprise, but managed to stay seated on her knees where she was. Vision’s gaze darted around the room, apparently trying to orient himself in the darkness. Morgan tried to keep her light handy to illuminate as much of the space around them as she could. After a few seconds, Vision’s short, rapid breaths started to calm down. Once he was breathing semi-regularly, Morgan tilted her phone back to light up her face a bit and smiled.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Morgan Stark.”

That drew Vision’s attention directly to her and he looked her up and down briefly, wide-eyed. “Stark?” he asked quietly.

Morgan nodded. “My dad was Tony Stark. He. . .” she paused, biting her lip as she searched for the words. Finally, she settled on the simplest explanation: “He made you.”

Shuri crawled forward, stopping next to Morgan and sitting on her knees, too. “Do you remember anything?” Her voice was soft, like she was trying not to frighten a wild animal.

Vision gave a solemn nod. “There are a few holes,” he admitted. “But I would say that I remember almost everything.”

Morgan couldn’t help smiling. She’d heard JARVIS’ voice in videos of her dad in the past, from when he’d been working in the lab or from video-feed from his suits. She’s always loved the way JARVIS sounded and she knew how much her dad had loved him. In a weird way, she felt like she missed JARVIS, too – even though she’d never actually ‘met’ him. Hearing Vision speak, with JARVIS’s vocal qualities, and having it be _in person_? It was beyond amazing.

“I’m Shuri. Do you remember me?” Shuri asked, tilting her head sideways in curiosity.

“Yes,” Vision told her. In the glow of her phone, Morgan could see him smile. He had a nice smile, she decided.

“Do you think you can stand?” Morgan asked him.

“I should think so, yes.”

Despite the Vision’s confidence, Morgan and Shuri both hurried to their feet and each grabbed one of his hands, helping him up. Once he was standing and relatively steady, Shuri pointed her phone’s light toward the door. “Maybe we should find somewhere private but with light? And fresh air?”

“Yeah,” Morgan agreed. The girls helped Vision to the door and supported his slightly unsteady form up the five steps to the doorway. Once they were outside, Morgan made sure the door was locked behind them. Shuri supported Vision while Morgan peered around the building, making sure nobody was coming. If anyone heard the noises or saw any weird lighting events from the shack, they weren’t doing anything about it. And that suited Morgan just fine.

She looked up to the sky. It was dark, except for a sliver of the moon, and blotted with stars. Turning to Vision, she sighed. “A lot has happened. We’ll fill you in.” Then, Morgan nodded her head toward the tree-line nearby and the trio started walking to their temporary hiding spot.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Loki opened his eyes slowly, blearily blinking back to consciousness. Glancing out the window, he could just barely see a faint light on the horizon, starting to tint the sky purple and orange. It would probably be another half hour or so before the sun truly started rising. And the bed was comfortable and warm and _safe_ , and Loki had no desire to move. With a yawn, he rolled over, closing his eyes and tucking himself up against Strange. He told himself it was just because he was tired, or the result of some post-coital stupor, that caused his heart to speed up when the other man’s arms wrapped around him, allowing him to nestle into the Sorcerer’s chest. The warm tingle of Eldritch magic seeped through Strange’s fingers and Loki sighed as he let it warm his cold Jötunn blood, reveling in the intoxicating effect of their intermingled magic.

“You awake?” Strange asked quietly, his voice rough with sleep.

“No,” Loki replied with a smirk. He opened his eyes and leaned back to look at the mortal.

Strange was looking at him in a stupidly adorable manner. And Loki found himself wondering when butterflies had taken up residence in his intestinal track. Silently, the doctor tilted his chin down and kissed the top of Loki’s head. He squeezed his arms tighter around the mage’s thin frame, tugging them closer together. Then one of his hands found Loki’s hair and he started running his fingers through the messy, wavy black locks. As fingernails scraped against his scalp and gently combed through his dark tresses, Loki couldn’t help melting into how glorious it felt.

Apparently, Loki had dozed off because he re-awoke with a start when his head started to drop off Strange’s chest. He could see rays of light across the floor and up the wall, as they were streaming in from the window behind him.

“ _Good morning,_ ” the female voice spoke overhead. Loki tensed slightly and he heard Strange chuckle softly.

“Morning, FRIDAY,” the Sorcerer said into the open space. Then, he shifted so he could meet Loki’s gaze. “Good morning, You,” he said, his voice soft and his eyes warm.

“Morning,” Loki replied lazily. He sat up, stretching his arms behind his head and popping his neck. Then he wrapped the sheet up around him and flopped back down onto the mattress.

Strange laughed and straightened up, leaning back against the headboard. He ran a hand through his hair and when Loki glanced back, the man was staring at him. “Look at you,” Strange cooed teasingly. “Like a little burrito.”

Loki rolled his eyes and pulled the sheet over his head. “I’m not turning into food-stuffs.”

After barking out a laugh, Strange asked, “What?”

“Yesterday, you compared me to a cat.” Loki pulled the fabric off his face and sat up, pushing some unruly strands of hair out of his eyes. “Now, you say I’m Mexican food.” As he tugged the blanket around his shoulders, he gave a coy grin. “Wonder what I’ll be tomorrow.”

Strange’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed harshly. “Tomorrow?” he asked.

“Mm,” Loki hummed. Then he lowered himself back down to lay across the doctor with a devilish smirk. “Unless you feel up to round three right now?”

So taken by surprise was Strange that he snorted and almost choked on his nervous laughter. Loki grinned mischievously, proud of his ability to rattle the mortal.

“ _Apologies for the interruption,_ ” FRIDAY’s voice broke through again. “ _But Sam has requested the presence of all available Avengers in the cafeteria for an early morning conference_.”

With that, Strange slid down the headboard and laid back on the pillow with force. He ended up knocking his head into the board anyway. “Ow,” he grumbled, closing his eyes.

Loki crawled forward, putting his lips to Strange’s head where he’d hit it. Then he slithered down to lay beside the man. Strange didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around Loki, absently rubbing his thumb along the god’s arm. Loki ignored the way his heart was hammering. “Does that mean we have to get up?”

“I’m afraid so,” Strange replied.

“Fine,” Loki groaned. Then he rolled over and stood up, taking the sheet with him. Strange scrambled for a throw blanket and stood, wrapping it around his waist. “No need to be modest, Doctor.” Loki glanced over his shoulder seductively. “Nothing I haven’t seen already.” With a wink, he added, “And _certainly_ nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Strange cleared his throat before quickly gathering his clothes off the floor. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go in here,” he jabbed his thumb toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right back out.”

Loki chuckled to himself as the Sorcerer disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Tossing the sheet onto the bed, Loki stretched some more. Over the past year, he’d grown quite fond of stretching and spreading or sprawling out. He suspected it was because he’d spent too long cramped up in cages.

In no particular rush, Loki collected his clothes from the floor and piled them on the bed. It would have been easier just to magic them on, but the mage felt rather lazy and decided to take his time. He figured he must still be a little magic-drunk. He pulled his leggings on, followed by stockings, and then laced up his boots. As Loki stood and picked up his tunic, Strange emerged from the bathroom. The man was fully dressed in casual slacks and a long-sleeved shirt, with his hair dripping slightly from a quick shower. He had a towel wrapped around his neck and he dropped into an armchair to pull his shoes on.

“Um.” Strange froze, holding one of his shoes in the air. Loki raised an eyebrow, waiting. “FRIDAY has promised her, uh, discretion.” The Sorcerer pointed a finger at himself, then at Loki. “About us.”

Slowly, the Trickster nodded. “That’s good.” Looking up, Loki said, “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“ _My pleasure,_ ” she said. But her voice halted slightly. Then she asked, “ _How would you like me to address you?_ ” Loki furrowed his brow. FRIDAY took his pause as confusion and elaborated: “ _Do you prefer Mr. Odinson, or Mr. Laufeyson? Or, perhaps, Your Highness?_ ”

After a glacial pause, Loki cleared his throat. “Just Loki will be fine, if you please,” he told the AI.

“ _I can do that, Just Loki_ ,” FRIDAY stated. Loki was about to correct her when Strange started laughing. As if on cue, FRIDAY chimed in, ” _Pardon my sense of humor, Loki. Boss was very big on dad-jokes, at the end._ ”

“Oh,” Loki replied quietly. Something caught in his throat. “That’s quite all right. . .” his voice trailed off. Strange went back to putting his boots on, and Loki tugged his tunic over his head. Then, a thought occurred to the mage and, before he could stop himself, he was saying, “Actually, FRIDAY?”

“ _Yes_?”

“You may still call me Loki, but if you’d like to then perhaps sometimes you could also use,” he stopped a moment to lick his lips, completely aware of the fact that Strange was watching him from his peripheral vision. “Erm, Mr. Friggason?”

“ _Certainly_ ,” FRIDAY responded. Strange tugged his laces tight on one shoe and sat up, looking at Loki with a soft smile on his face. Silence settled as the doctor went to work on the other shoe and Loki stood, hugging his arms around himself somewhat awkwardly.

“So, you’re coming to this meeting thing, right?” Strange broke the silence, asking casually as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Loki scoffed and crossed the room, straightening out his tunic. “I doubt two-point-oh meant to include me in the invite.”

“’Two-point-oh?’” Strange repeated, looking up when Loki stopped directly in front of him.

At that, Loki snickered. “Your new captain. Wilson.” Loki smiled broadly and shrugged. “He’s version 2.0.”

Strange rolled his eyes. He reached forward and grabbed Loki by the waist, tugging him down into his lap. “He’s going to _hate_ that nickname.”

“In that case,” Loki murmured against Strange’s temple, “I’ll make sure to use it frequently.”

The doctor chuckled, but his laughter stopped when Loki gently lifted the towel from around his shoulders and started drying his hair. Then he took the end of the towel to wipe toothpaste off Strange’s lip. With a smile, Loki leaned forward and kissed him, savoring the minty flavor of the man’s mouth. When they pulled apart, they were both smiling at each other. Strange reached up and stroked Loki’s cheek with his knuckles for just a fraction of a moment before pulling his hands away. He kept one hand at Loki’s waist but moved to tuck the other one under his own thigh. Loki was quick to grab it though, pulling it back up and placing it on his face.

“Why do you hide, Stephen?” Loki asked quietly. He closed his eyes and placed his hand on top of Strange’s, delicately tracing the mottled lines of scarring with his fingers. Opening his eyes and locking blue on gray, Loki said, “ _Kintsugi_.”

Strange watched Loki for a moment, eyes darting around and scanning his face curiously. Loki started to explain, saying, “It means—” but he was cut off by Strange pressing their lips together.

When they pulled apart, Stephen tucked Loki’s hair behind his ear. “I know what it means. It’s a Japanese technique, the art of repairing broken pottery by mixing powdered gold into a lacquer and using the gold to mend the broken areas.”

Loki smiled and nodded. “The philosophy of _wabi-sabi_ and the mental state of _mushin_.” Again taking Stephen’s hand in his own, Loki kissed the scarred fingers and palm. He moved his lips up Strange’s wrist and around to the back of his hand. “We must accept flaws,” he murmured. “Life is fragile. We must accept that which cannot change, embrace things for exactly what they are – _mono no aware_.”

Loki had closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he found the good doctor staring at him. “What?” the mage asked, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“It’s just,” Stephen paused. He licked his lips, apparently trying to decide what to say.

Loki gulped, suddenly regretting how open and vulnerable he’d allowed himself to be. He’d taken care of Stephen, been nurturing, shown empathy. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d laid himself too bare. Or maybe Stephen knew he was a hypocrite. Here he’d been encouraging the mortal to stop being ashamed of his scars, all while Loki wore a glamor to cover up the very essence of who he was – not to mention that he was hiding the scars that he hadn’t been able to get rid of, the only scars that hadn’t healed after everything he’d been through. . .

Finally, Strange blinked a few times and shook his head gently. “You’re really something, Loki,” he settled on. Then, he patted Loki’s ass and urged them both to stand up. “Time to go,” he said.

They stood and Strange moved toward the door. Loki really did want to follow, but he hesitated. “Stephen,” he said, causing the other to turn and look at him. “I’m not an Avenger.”

Strange eyed him curiously, then clicked his tongue. “You’re here and you’re willing to help us against whatever comes, right?” Somewhat reservedly, Loki nodded. Strange shrugged. “So that’s that. You need to be in the loop to help. You’re coming.”

The feeling of being needed, of being _wanted_ was almost too much to bear. So when Stephen grabbed Loki’s hand and squeezed it, the Trickster couldn’t help but squeeze back. And when the man opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, Loki felt it was impossible not to follow. And, as he followed Stephen Strange down the hallway, he couldn’t even be mad at himself for thinking that maybe, _just maybe_ , if he were to give in and fall for this man, that might not be such a terrible thing.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Scott paced the lobby of the Compound, watching the main entrance with intensity. He rubbed his face and let out a groan. It was too early, and things had not been going well.

He’d woken up to Cassie banging on his door, demanding answers. Which, of course, left Scott scratching his head because he had no idea what she was talking about.

“That boy!” Cassie had shouted, pointing her arm down the hallway.

“What boy?” Scott asked, stifling a yawn.

“The one in the basement,” his daughter growled. That made Scott freeze. He stared at her.

“How do you—”

“Hope took me down there,” Cassie interrupted. “She trusted me and wanted to give me a chance, so I’m not totally out of the loop around here.”

“Okay.” Scott scratched his jaw. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He wanted to be mad at Hope for going behind his back and figured he probably needed to punish Cassie in some way, but he just couldn’t quite get the words together.

Cassie sighed in exasperation. “This person that’s got everyone so worried, the one who basically came riding in as a horseman of the apocalypse today – it’s seriously that boy down there?”

With a tight expression, Scott nodded. “Yeah! Okay? The kid is the one everybody’s talking about.”

“He’s not a _kid_.” Cassie narrowed her eyes. “And neither am I.”

“Oh, Cass. C’mon, let’s not do this!” Pretty sure he was already in for defeat, Scott turned and stalked back into the bedroom. Cassie followed him, letting the door slam behind her.

Scott sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. Then, he waited. He expected to hear Cassie’s usual arguments and for her to beg him to let her be an Avenger, or to have her lecture him about how he can’t just keep her hidden away from the world forever and he can’t stop her from growing up. . . he’d heard it all before. Many times. So he was ready for it.

What he was _not_ ready for, however, was what Cassie _actually_ said: “He knows me.”

Scott lifted his head up, looking at his daughter with wide eyes. Cassie’s expression had turned somber. She stepped forward, sitting down in a chair in the room, across from her dad. “When we went down there, Hope said she was just letting me satisfy my curiosity by getting a look. Then I was gonna go to bed and her and Ava would stay for their guard duty.” The dark-haired girl inhaled sharply. “Ava took some food into the cell, and the guy knew her. Like, really knew her. As in, he was excited to see her.”

Scott nodded. “I’m pretty sure he knows all of us. Versions of us, anyway, I guess? I don’t know, it’s all kind of mixed up.”

“Okay, but,” Cassie ran a hand through her hair. “He asked Ava about _me_.”

“Well, what did he say?” Scott sat up straighter, leaning forward eagerly from morbid curiosity.

But Cassie only shrugged. “Just, asked if I was here and how I’m doing?” She shook her head. “Then Hope freaked out. She told Ava to get out of there and not to say anything to him. And then she basically shoved me out of there and locked the door in my face.”

The two were silent for a moment. “Dad,” Cassie began, her voice wavering slightly. “Why does he know me? What does that mean?”

Scott rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t know, Cass. I think it means that there’s a lot we don’t understand.” Then an idea struck him. “And we might need backup.”

So an idea had struck and, after running it by a very grumpy, half-awake Sam, Scott made some phone calls. Which explains why Scott now found himself pacing in the lobby and watching the door like a Ritz-Carlton bell-boy. Finally, he saw a car speeding up the driveway. A smile spread across his face as the car made it up to the doorway and parked. Scott bolted out the door, laughing as his friends climbed out of the vehicle.

“Scotty!” Luis called, running around from the driver’s side and all but leaping into his friend’s arms.

“Whoa. Hi!” Scott greeted. He managed to peel Luis off of him. “Have some class, though. We just saw each other like two days ago.”

“I know, but, like, so much has happened in those two days, y’know?” Luis grinned widely. “I mean, you left and then we all were like, ‘man, we miss Scott,’ and we went to get some ice cream. And we thought it’d be funny if we went to that shitty Baskin Robbins you worked at for a while – remember when you worked there?”

“Yeah, I remember—”

“Well, we went to that one. But guess what? It’s not Baskin Robbins anymore! They just, I don’t know, closed up shop, man. And now it’s like this weird store that sells cigars or some shit? I didn’t go in because it looked super shady, but I’m pretty sure it’s like a front for the mob or something.” Luis shook his head, looking thoroughly perplexed.

Scott just smiled and patted his friend’s shoulder. Then he looked up and smiled. “Kurt!” he called to the other man, who was still hovering by the car. Hearing his name, Kurt made his way over and stood by Luis.

“Hello, Scott,” he said in his thick Russian accent. “We have been driving all night. Non-stop.”

“It’s good to see ya, buddy!” Scott gave a friendly punch to Kurt’s shoulder. “And thank you both for coming. I owe you.”

Kurt perked up at that. “You have some breakfast foods here, yes?” he asked hopefully.

Scott waved them both toward the door. “I’m sure we can find something. Let’s go inside.” He chuckled before leading them inside, filling them in on the recent events.

By the time they reached the cafeteria, Luis and Kurt were fully caught up and briefed on what had been happening within the Compound since the day before. They entered the cafeteria, only to be quickly engulfed in hugs by Cassie and Hope. Ava stood behind them.

“Hi Luis,” Ava said with a wave.

“’Sup, Ghosty?” Luis replied, pulling her in for a hug.

Ava leaned around Luis. “Oy, Kurt,” she said fondly.

“Baba Yaga,” Kurt replied in a harsh whisper. But he winked, earning a grin from Ava. Then, Kurt’s eyes scanned the room, landing on the buffet-style setup. He rubbed his hands together greedily before starting off toward the food. Luis and Scott followed, with the girls close behind. As they all stocked up on food, Kurt and Luis animatedly commented on the items they were loading onto their plates.

“Is just like Holiday Inn!” Kurt exclaimed upon discovering the Belgian waffle maker. He wasted no time pouring batter and getting the machine going.

Scott and the others laughed. “We’re gonna sit down. Come join us when you’re done!” Scott called, receiving only a dismissive wave from the Russian. Shaking his head, Scott led his little troupe to find an empty table.

Their path quickly took a detour, when Luis darted past Scott and stopped at a table where Carol was sitting. On top of the table was Carol’s cat. Luis instantly started making cooing noises and scratching under the animal’s chin. “Who’s a good kitty?” Luis said in a squeaky voice. Carol sat beside them wearing an amused expression.

Scott sighed and swerved, moving to sit next to Carol. Hope sat next to him while Cassie and Ava sat across the table.

“What’s your name, wittle fewwa?” Luis baby-talked to the cat.

“This is Chewie,” Carol answered, stroking her cat’s tail.

“Like Chewbacca?” Luis asked with a grin. When Carol nodded, Luis went back to petting the furball. “That’s a good name, man. I always liked cats. But my mami, she was allergic. So instead, she got me a fish. But it’s not the same, ya know?” He looked at Scott and shook his head dejectedly. “Damn fish wouldn’t even come to its name.”

Luis sat down, pulling Chewie onto his lap and allowed the cat to fall asleep on his legs while he started eating. Kurt joined them and noisily enjoyed his Belgian waffles.

It wasn’t long before Peter joined them, sliding in next to Cassie. The Barton kids settled in, too. Peter was busying himself with his phone, rapidly typing away at what Scott assumed to be a very important text-convo – based on Pete’s look of concentration and the way he stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth just slightly while he focused intently on whatever he was reading and sending.

Halfway through his second waffle, Kurt froze. Scott gave him a puzzled look before turning to follow his gaze, where he saw Dr. Strange walking with Loki in tow. With a smile, Scott stood part of the way and waved. Once they saw him, he gestured for them to come over, pointing to the empty seats at their table.

“Hey guys!” Scott called once the two were nearby. Carol turned around and smiled brightly at both of them. Strange and Loki dropped into the empty seats, with Loki closest to Scott. It only took a fraction of a second for Loki to notice Kurt was staring at him.

“Yes?” the alien drawled, sounding curious.

Kurt sucked in a sharp breath, then whispered, “You’re Lopt.”

Loki stiffened. In a harsh voice, he softly said, “Do _not_ call me that.” Then, just as quickly as the intensity had come, it was gone; Loki moved around, as if shaking out his bones, and Kurt went back to his waffles, resolutely avoiding the god’s gaze.

“Um. So, Loki?” Scott asked carefully, still not quite sure what had just happened. When Loki glanced sideways at him, he took it as permission to continue. Scott pushed his empty plates away and turned slightly, smiling. “I was thinking, maybe I could show you a magic trick?” With a flourish, Scott produced a deck of cards, fanning them out in front of his face.

“Oh, boy,” Hope murmured. Scott shot her a glare just in time to see her face-palm. But when he looked back at Loki, the Trickster wore an amused smile.

“Pick a card, any card!” Scott called, holding the deck out to Loki. He hesitated a moment but then, after a nudge from Strange, Loki sighed and pulled a card from the pile, much to Scott’s delight. “Okay, look at it. Don’t show me. Once you’ve memorized it, put it back in the deck, anywhere you want.”

As Scott made a show of looking away, Cassie rolled her eyes. “Dad, _please_ ,” she groaned.

“Shh!” Scott hissed, winking at her.

Scott felt the card slide back into the deck. He looked back at the dark-haired man, not even bothering to hide how excited he was that Loki was playing along. Scott waved his free hand in the air, shuffled the deck, cut it, and held up half the pile with the cards still face-down. “Is _this_ ,” he flicked the back of the card on top, causing it to flip over to show the face, “your card?” Scott held up the Ace of Spades.

Loki grinned. “It is,” he said slyly. “But, then again. . .” he paused and waved his hand in the air. Suddenly, all of Scott’s cards spread out across the table, face-up to show that all 52 of them were the Ace of Spades.

“Aw, man!” Luis whined. “You’re using a trick deck? That’s not cool, homie. I thought you were better than that.”

“Yeah, all that time under house arrest, bragging about your close-up magic?” Carol chimed in before shaking her head in mock disappointment.

Offended, Scott stammered a bit before his voice finally gained traction. “It’s not a trick deck! Or, it _wasn’t_ one, anyway.”

As he spoke, the cards started to glow a green, radioactive color. They rapidly changed to their correct suits and numbers before swirling through the air, coming together, and then settling in a pile in front of Scott.

Scott’s jaw dropped, along with Kurt and Luis. When he looked to Loki, the Trickster merely peered at him down his shoulder, fluttering his lashes. “When you can do _that_ , we’ll talk magic.”

“Play nice,” Strange chastised in a quiet but fond tone.

Loki rolled his eyes and smiled. “But I suppose for a mortal with no training, that sleight of hand wasn’t entirely disappointing.”

“My, my,” Thor boomed from behind them. He walked up and clapped his hands on Loki’s shoulders. “To whom are you giving such high praise, Brother?”

Scott’s eyes widened. “ _That_ was high praise?”

Loki nodded and let out a noncommittal, “Mm-hmm.” Behind him, Thor chuckled before saying he was going to check if there was enough food left for seconds. “Glutton,” Loki mumbled, rolling his eyes at Thor’s retreating figure.

As their group settled back into quiet conversation or eating, or both, Scott couldn’t help but notice Cooper shifting awkwardly in his seat, just before clearing his throat. “Um, Loki?” Coop asked in a quiet voice. Loki’s gaze fell on him instantly. Scott had to wonder if the mage realized just how _intense_ that stare of his could be. “You attacked New York, right?”

It was completely silent as all eyes darted back and forth between Loki and the boy.

“Erm, yes. I did,” Loki replied.

Coop gulped. "Um, why did. . ." his voice cracked a little, so he cleared his throat and tried again: "Why did you do it?"

Loki blinked at the boy. Scott felt himself cringe. The whole Loki-Invasion thing had been hard enough to explain to other adults, with many of the finer details being left out. Even Scott wasn’t sure he completely understood it. How, exactly, did one even begin to explain such a thing to a younger person?

Lila seemed to take pity on the mage and clarified her brother's question. "We know about the mind control thing. And obviously we know about Thanos."

"Right," Cooper agreed. "I just wanted to know. . . why?" He frowned and let out a huff. "Or, maybe, more like. Um. How?"

Loki's breath hitched. "You want to know," Loki began slowly, "how I came to be under Thanos's orders?"

Cooper gave a curt nod and Lila followed suit, her lips pursed tightly. Loki inhaled deeply. "I was. . . not quite right," he told them, choosing his words carefully. "Some events had taken place in my life which led me down a wrong path. A very wrong path." He avoided eye contact, focusing instead on the wall behind the Barton children. "I found myself in a dark place."

"You were hurt?" Scott asked quietly.

"Yes," Loki answered, looking toward her but not quite meeting her gaze. "And I was desperate. So I fell in with others who were in similar situations."

"Then Thanos found you?" Lila queried.

Loki nodded, letting out a shaky breath.

Cooper frowned again. "But you still joined him.”

Ava nodded along. “Did you not know his plans? That he was,” she paused, letting out a huff as she shrugged and said, “well, you know, a bad guy?”

"I knew. I just. . . didn't care," Loki confessed.

Surprisingly, Lila nodded. "He used you."

"You resisted though," Peter pressed, his tone gentle. "So you must have started caring at some point."

Loki simply shrugged, apparently not sure what else to say.

"So why didn't you just leave? Or say no, or try to, like, stop him?" Lila sounded a bit more persistent.

"By then, there didn't seem to be many options," the Asgardian admitted. "I couldn't get away, and I was no match for the Titan by myself. I couldn't even _tell_ anyone." Loki's hands, which were resting on the table, clenched into fists. He gritted his teeth in frustration. Closing his eyes, he took a few calming breaths. When he opened them again, he looked around the table, at the adults as well as the kids. Scott noticed that he did, however, avoid looking toward Strange. "The only choice available – or the only one I could see – was to appear as though I was going along with the plan, while secretly doing everything I could to ensure it failed."

"And you did that," Peter said – a statement, not a question.

Cooper and Lila both nodded, apparently accepting the information. A moment passed. Thor had returned to the table, approaching slowly and, obviously, catching pieces of the conversation. He sat down next to Cooper and gave Loki a sad smile. It was quiet for another moment before Cooper piped up again: "You hurt people, though. Killed them. Do you regret it?"

"Coop!" Lila admonished her brother.

Loki smiled as kindly as he could manage at the girl before looking at the boy. "The truth?" he asked, earning a nod from Cooper. "Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" Luis repeated, sounding shocked.

With a heaviness to his voice, Loki replied, "I am. . . not exactly a good person."

“You _weren’t_ good.” Everyone turned their attention to Strange, who had finally joined the conversation. The doctor had his arms folded on the table in front of him and was looking down at his hands which, Scott noticed, were not covered by gloves for the first time since he’d known the man. Turning to Loki, Dr. Strange continued, “But you said yourself, you’re not the same as you were back then.”

Loki nodded, wide-eyed. Apparently unable to speak, Thor spoke for him: “Much has changed. But you have come out on the other side, better for it.”

Then, in a relatively stern voice, Carol said, “You’re trying to be good now, aren’t you?”

Loki leaned forward, looking past Scott to nod at the Captain. Carol eyed him a second longer before shrugging. "Then that's all anyone can ask of you. And that’s all you should expect of yourself." There was still something firm in her tone as she spoke, not giving up eye contact. But she seemed appeased.

Loki opened his mouth to say something but stopped, seemingly at a loss. Before anyone else could speak again, they heard a loud "Hey!"

Scott, along with his table-mates, looked up and watched as Clint Barton made his way over. He stopped directly behind his children and stared down at Loki in unadulterated anger.

Lila spun around and reached a hand out to Clint’s forearm. “Dad—”

Clint pulled his arm away, holding a hand up to silence his daughter. "What the hell do you think you're doing?” He locked eyes with Loki. Accusatorily, he asked, “You're talkin' to my kids?"

Loki, having recovered from his momentary lapse only seconds before, only smirked. "Question asked, question answered."

Barton narrowed his eyes. "Do you think you're cute?"

Without missing a beat, Loki replied, "I've been told I'm quite adorable, actually."

“It’s our fault,” Cooper interjected. “ _We_ asked _him_ questions.”

Clint looked down at his kids, still fuming. “Go find your mom, both of you.” The two teens scrambled to stand and raced away without a word. Clint leaned forward, palms on the table, giving Loki a glare that _almost_ matched the mage’s in intensity.

Loki leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. “So, we’re finally going to have it out then?” Clint screwed his face up in confusion, which just made a mischievous grin spread across Loki’s face. “This tension between us has gone on too long. We really should settle it, shouldn’t we?”

With that, Loki slowly rose to his feet, stepping away from the bench, making it so he towered over Clint. Scott felt like passing out or puking or something. He scooted a bit in his seat, trying to put some distance between himself and Loki – just in case the Asgardian decided to spontaneously combust or something.

Thor and Strange quickly stood, too, along with Peter and Carol. Scott nodded to Hope, who grabbed Cassie and pulled her away from the table, followed quickly by Luis and Kurt. Ava remained sitting but focused intently on the proceedings. Scott also noticed that Bucky was slowly walking up behind Barton. “Clint,” Thor said, his voice soft like when he talked down the Hulk. “Why don’t we just relax and discuss things, in a civilized manner?”

Loki scoffed. “Really, Thor? Since when do you prefer talking compared to action?”

“Since I have a Kingdom to worry about,” Thor shot back.

Clint stood up straight, tugging down his shirt and never once breaking his stare with Loki. “You’d probably like to talk, wouldn’t you? That’s what you do best. Silvertongue, right?” With a bark of a laugh, Clint rolled his eyes. “I’ve been manipulated by you and your pretty _words_ before. Not interested in doing it again.”

Loki tutted, saying, “Come now, don’t lie to me.” There was a sickly sweet smile on his face as he leaned forward and, in a harsh whisper, said, “Remember: I’ve been inside your head, Hawk. I know the exact kinds of things you’d be interested in doing. I know that you and I are the _same_.”

Clint let out a snarl, the only warning before he lunged across the table at Loki. Bucky and Thor each grabbed him by an arm and hauled him back before he made it too far. Loki took two steps backward and smiled. There was a gold shimmer around him before he flickered—kind of like Ghost used to when she was losing control of her matter—but then, nothing happened.

“What the—” Loki frowned and looked down at his wrist where a red tendril was snaking its way up his arm. A matching line of energy was doing the same thing on the other side and Loki threw his head back with a groan. “Damn you, Strange!” he growled. “Let me go!”

Strange kept his hands in the air, controlling the red energy, and shook his head. “You can’t just run away from this, Loki,” he insisted.

Loki swore—it was in some foreign, alien language, but definitely still a swear word—as the tendrils wrapped tight around his limbs. He struggled against them, but wasn’t able to break free. Finally, he stopped moving and just let out a bitter laugh. “You think I’m such a threat as to require the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak, Doctor?”

“Not a threat,” Strange argued. “A flight risk.”

Meanwhile, Bucky had taken over holding onto Clint, locking both of the archer’s arms behind him. It looked like the super soldier wasn’t even breaking a sweat as the man tried to break free from his grasp – another futile attempt, it seemed.

Once Clint stopped wriggling and Loki seemed more subdued, Scott let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Now,” Thor said, stepping forward to be between the two (along with the table, but apparently that didn’t mean much if either of them planned on just leaping across it). “Are we ready to talk this out?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Clint grumbled. Then, a bit louder, he said, “I don’t trust him and I never will.”

Loki pouted. “You wound me, my little Hawk.”

“Stop calling me that!” Clint shouted.

There was an odd glint in Loki’s eyes as he tilted his head to the side. “Why?”

“Because I’m not _your_ Hawk. I’m not _your_ anything,” Clint insisted, baring his teeth.

Loki dropped his head to the ground, looking thoughtful. His arms were still stranded at his sides by Strange’s magic. Finally, Loki looked back up, with a significantly softer expression. “You used to be.”

Barton looked taken aback. “What?” Clint asked, his voice going quiet.

With a sigh, Loki looked at Strange. “Release me,” he commanded. Strange made a concerted effort to shake his head, and even Scott could see that holding Loki was wearing him out. “Stephen,” Loki said, his tone surprisingly gentle. “I’m not going to leave. Please?”

It took a moment, but the doctor finally gave a tight nod and lowered his hands. The bands receded, vanishing away and Loki shook his hands out, demonstrating that he was no longer restrained. He then flickered out of existence, only to reappear on the other side of the table right in front of Clint. Not the most tactical move, in Scott’s opinion, but hey. . .

“Let him go, Bucky,” Loki said with a nod toward the Soldier.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Barnes,” Clint growled, craning his neck back to try to look at his captor. With a sharp inhale, Bucky acquiesced, raising his hands in the air as he backed away. Clint swung his arms, shaking them loose, too, after being held back. Then he squared his shoulders and stared up at Loki defiantly.

Scott leaned around the edge of the table, practically on the edge of his seat, as he tried to watch and listen.

“What I was saying,” Loki began, “was that you used to be mine.” It looked like Clint was about to argue but Loki held up a finger to silence him. “I take care of the things that are mine, Barton.”

Clint snorted. “You mind-raped me, you sick fuck.”

Loki nodded solemnly. “I suppose I did. The Mind Stone—”

“Don’t blame it on the Stone,” Clint spat. “You had to know at least _some_ of what you were doing.”

That actually seemed to brighten something in Loki. “You’re right,” he agreed. “Why else do you think I chose you?”

“Uh, because I was the unlucky bastard who happened to be nearby?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Agent,” Loki admonished. Taking a step back and speaking up, Loki said, “I chose you because you’re strong.”

“What?” Thor interrupted, furrowing his brows.

Loki shot his brother an amused look, then looked back at Clint. “You have great strength, Hawkeye. I knew you’d be able to handle the effects of the Mind Stone and that when it was all over, you could recover from having been used that way.” The god looked down and shook his head. “I do regret _that_. I know what it is to be controlled.” He looked up, sparing a glance toward Bucky before focusing on Clint again. “I hate mind magic. And I am truly sorry.”

Scott looked around, realizing that all eyes in the full cafeteria were on them. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Then, Clint sighed and as he did, it was almost like he deflated. He ran his hand through his hair, then looked up at Loki. “I’m not saying I forgive you. Or that I trust you,” he stated. “But I guess you can prove whether you’ve really changed, and you can try to help us with whatever shit may be comin’ down the pike.” Quickly, Clint pointed a finger at the Asgardian. “But if you so much as _think_ about stepping over the line, I will personally put an arrow between your eyes.”

Loki – the deranged darling that he was – actually smiled at that. “Hawk, I would expect no less from you.”

At that moment, the cafeteria doors opened, echoing loudly in the otherwise silent space. Sam walked in, alongside Pepper, Fury, and Hill. Everyone turned to look at them and the four newcomers froze.

“Uh,” Sam glanced around. “Did we miss something?”

Surprisingly, it was Clint who spoke up. “Not a damn thing, Cap.” He grinned at Loki before walking around him and clapping his hands together. “Now, whatcha got for us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say that Shuri is speaking Wakandan but, according to the MCU, the people of Wakanda actually speak the isiXhosa language – so that's what I used in this chapter, courtesy of Google translate (meaning: blame Google for any inaccuracies!).
> 
> Also, shout-out to Rabentochter for the idea of having Scott do magic tricks for Loki - bc Sesil & I had an epic convo about that via comments on her fic, "The Ones Left Behind" (which y'all should go read if you want an amazing Endgame fix with FrostIron feels)


	12. Spooky action at a distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam declares a Field Day; Mutiverse theories are bounced around; Peter learns something about himself; Rocket agrees to a compromise with Loki; Ava should probably rethink her life choices; Wanda gets a surprise visitor; Loki gives Morgan a present; & Pepper and the gang decide they’re going to enjoy the calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance if this chapter is super meta. I really wanted the characters to have a detailed discussion about the Multiverse, and I’ve been super inspired lately – by my own research on it, plus the absolutely impeccable way it’s handled in "The Man in the High Castle" (watch it on Amazon Prime, or read the book by Philip K. Dick). Hopefully it’s not too off-puttingly high-brow :P
> 
> Also, definitely taking some creative liberties here. And mixing MU with MCU (just roll with it).

Sam tried to make his report succinct. In all honesty, he didn’t have much to report on, but he wanted some semblance of normalcy, of _order_. Once everyone sat back down from. . . _whatever_ had been going on before he entered the cafeteria, Sam let them know that so far, things hadn’t had been uneventful.

“In this case,” he’d said, “no news is good news. FRIDAY’s keeping an eye on things, and we’ve also notified our contacts at the Xavier School, just in case they come across anything.”

Then, he pointed toward Scott. “Plus, our very own Ant-Man has stepped up to be the real MVP here. Scott, take the floor.”

Scott’s eyes doubled in size and he slowly stood up. “Oh, um. Okay. Yup. Cool.” He swung his arms in front of him and rubbed his hands together, chuckling nervously. “So, uh, here’s the thing. Just, I thought of something that might help us with the whole keeping watch thing.” He grinned. “Who better to do that than employees of a security company?”

Scott gestured for his friends to stand up. They both did, waving awkwardly as Scott continued: “Luis and Kurt were kind enough to come here and have agreed to take longer shifts. Similar to, like, a full-time, security guard duty, watching Nathaniel for us. Or with us, if need be.”

“We’ll all still have shifts,” Sam added. “But Luis and Kurt are gonna have one long shift during the day, to help us out.”

Pepper nodded enthusiastically. “That also means that we can continue to enjoy our reunion.”

The Avengers all clapped and a murmur of “thanks” rippled throughout the cafeteria. Kurt smiled shyly before sitting down, while Luis gave a theatrical bow. Scott sat back down, grabbing Luis by the arm and tugging him down, too.

Sam nodded toward Scott and then threw his arms out to the side. “That being said, since Kurt and Luis have freed most of us up, today is going to be our annual Field Day.”

Applause broke out. Sam waved his arms to quiet everybody down, but he couldn’t help the smile on his face. “Everyo—Everyone, focus up. Finish your breakfast. Then get ready for the day. By 11 am, we’re gonna head outside for some fun.”

After his announcement, everybody started moving about. They were either hurrying to finish their meals, or tossing their trash before heading off to do whatever they needed to do to get ready.

Valkyrie got in front of him, walking backwards to keep up as Sam made his way over to the food table. “About this ‘Field Day,’” she held up her fingers in air quotes. “Will there be fighting?” Val asked with a grin.

“Doubtful,” he told her dubiously. “We’re gonna have a BBQ and there may be some target practice. Probably games for friendly competition.”

Suddenly, Bucky was at his side. “I bet we could work in a spar here and there.”

Busy inspecting the pastries, Sam only shrugged. “If anybody wants to, then yeah, go nuts.” He cringed as Valkyrie let out a loud whoop in his ear before she darted away with Bucky on her heels. Sam scarfed down a donut and chugged some coffee. He ended up burning his tongue, which resulted in him also spilling hot coffee on his shirt. “Shit!” He groaned and then, pulling the fabric away to prevent it from burning his skin, he hurried to the kitchenette off the cafeteria to see if he could clean up the mess.

As he approached the doors, he heard voices. Sam hesitated, shamelessly eavesdropping for a moment while wondering if he should bother going in or not.

“—if you _ever_ do that to me again, I will not hesitate to smite you,” a male voice hissed. It very clearly belonged to Loki.

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry, all right?” Another man replied, sounding surprisingly blasé after Loki’s death threat. Then, in a lower voice, the man added, “I promise not to tie you up unless you ask me to.”

Sam heard Loki scoff, but only silence after that. Just as he was about to turn to leave, a loud clattering noise came from inside the kitchen. Spurned forward mostly by curiosity, but also telling himself he wanted to make sure everything was okay, Sam pushed the door open.

What he saw was absolutely _not_ anything he could have expected: Loki was sitting on the counter, having knocked several pots and pans to the floor, with none other than Stephen Strange between his legs, playing a pretty intense game of tonsil-hockey.

Sam cleared his throat and the two sprang apart like they’d been electrocuted.

“Sam!” Strange squeaked, straightening out his clothes and running a hand through his hair.

Loki, however, smoothly slid off the counter, tucked his hair behind his ear, and turned around with a grin. “Two-point-oh,” he crooned.

Sam quirked an eyebrow at that, but decided not to push it. He looked back and forth between the two of them for a moment before finally letting out a defeated sigh. “Okay, here’s the deal,” Sam said, putting his hands on his hips. “I kinda feel like we’re probably supposed to fill out HR workplace-romance paperwork or some shit, and I’m really not up for that business. So, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see. . . whatever the hell that was.” He waved his hand in a vague gesture towards the pair.

Strange sniffed and gave a tight nod. “Thank you, Wilson. That’s, um. That will be appreciated.”

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Now, I’m gonna go to my room and get a clean shirt. I’ll see you guys outside later – or, y’know, _not_ , because this,” he raised his eyebrows with purpose, “is something I probably won’t be able to unsee.”

Strange had the decency to look at the floor, while Loki merely smirked and gave a small salute as Sam turned and walked out of the kitchen. He rolled his eyes as he made his way down the hall, already prepared for what was looking to be a long-ass day.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Peter rapped his knuckles on the table. After they’d finished eating, everyone started to disperse. Pete had spent the night and most of the morning texting with Ned and doing some general research. Although there were countless parallel universe theories, he felt like he’d managed to come up with a comprehensive-ish way to look at the Multiverse. When he told Carol that, she told Pete to stay put, then rushed off. She came back, beaming ear to ear, promising that Bruce, Scott, and Hank were coming over to discuss Multiverse theories.

Thor happened to be walking by at that moment and decided to listen in. Rocket, Groot, and Nebula came over to join him. The other Guardians all agreed it was over their heads and said they could all meet up later for the Field Day – in particular, Quill said he had the very important duty of providing the ‘tunes’ for their outdoor activities and hurried off to take care of that.

“Okay, so, Pete’s been researching the Multiverese,” Carol started. “Tell ‘em your thoughts.” She gave Peter a nudge in the side with her elbow. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Thor.

“Loki! Come join us,” he called over Pete’s head.

“Oh, no,” Peter groaned quietly. “Mr. Loki, too?”

“With Strange! What a _coincidence_!” Rocket added in a growl that quickly turned into a cackle. He rubbed his paws together, almost giddily, and had a devious glint in his eyes. It made no sense but Peter had learned from experience that it was better not to question the rodent.

“What is it?” Loki asked from behind Peter, sounding only slightly annoyed.

“Peter is gonna regale us with his theories about the Multiverse!” Scott chirped. “Wanna join?”

Instead of answering, Loki swung his leg over the bench-seat and sat sideways, staring right at Peter. Doctor Strange sat down beside him, but not before waving Wong over to join them. Peter put his head in his hands, trying to bury his face. He was already self-conscious enough – now he had a _huge_ audience to watch him flail while trying to explain something he didn’t fully understand? Awesome.

“Go on,” Carol prompted. She gave an encouraging smile.

Peter sat up straight and took a deep breath. “Okay, so, the Multiverse.” He cleared his throat. “Um, how familiar are you all with Einstein’s thoughts about Quantum entanglement?”

“Pfft,” was Rocket’s eloquent response.

“Working knowledge,” Scott said with a shrug.

“I’m familiar,” Hank stated confidently. Nebula and Bruce both nodded, apparently sharing the man’s sentiments.

“Go on,” Strange, Wong, and Loki all pitched in simultaneously.

Peter glanced to Thor, Groot, and Carol, who all just looked at him expectantly.

“Okay.” Pete sighed. “So, entanglement aligns with most of Quantum theory. See, according to Einstein, things—” he waved his hands through the air in a vague, dismissive gesture. “Doesn’t matter if they’re people, objects, particles, elements. . . _whatever_.” Pete laid his hands flat on the table and looked around at the group. “No matter what it is, all things influence one another. And it doesn’t matter how far apart they are, either.”

Beside him, Loki quietly said, “Spooky.”

Peter looked at him and, seeing that he was smiling, couldn’t help grinning. “Right,” he nodded toward the mage. “Einstein called it ‘spooky action at a distance.’”

“So, what’s that gotta do with parallel universes or whatever?” Rocket grumbled, folding his arms over his tiny chest.

“Butterfly Effect,” Wong chimed in.

Peter nodded without hesitation. “Same idea. Just as something holds sway over something else in the same world, you can’t do something in this world without it influencing a different one. No amount of time, space, or matter can change that.”

Bruce took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, it’s Newtonian, then?” He looked at Peter. “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and all of that?”

Most of the group seemed to agree, nodding or shrugging. Peter scratched his temple. “So, if we’re going off the ideas that have pervaded time-space theory for centuries—not just Newton and Einstein, but even back to people like Tesla, Aristotle, Plato, Socrates. . . “ his voice trailed off and he steepled his hands together in front of him. “If you were to travel to another universe or another time, it’s possible to create some kind of rift between the worlds. And if a rift like that was created, it would – in _theory_ ,” he stressed the word, hoping everyone understood that his words were still entirely hypothetical, ”well, it might be possible to travel from one world to another.”

The table fell silent. Finally, Thor shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“You should have that printed on your forehead,” Loki teased.

Thor shot him a glare but then looked back at Peter seriously. “The Norns are the weavers of Fate.”

Peter blinked. “Okay?” He shrugged, not really sure what to do with that statement.

Thor groaned. “The Norns dictate what happens, based on what they weave. Each Multiverse plays out the way Fate intends it to. How could one supersede that?”

When Loki let out a snort, Thor looked at him. “You disagree, Brother? You of all people here,” he waved his hands to the group of clearly non-Asgardians at the table, “should understand the power of the Norns.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “The Norns are not infallible, Thor.”

The comment made Thor’s eyes widen and Peter expected him to call Loki a heretic or something, but he kept quiet and Loki continued. “Yes, the Norns weave Fate and everything is bound together by their threads. But if the worlds are disrupted? If something happened to cause such a,” he waved his hand toward Peter, “ _rift_ , as the Spiderling worded it – well, it wouldn’t be difficult to fray those threads.” Loki sighed. “The veil between the universes could quite easily be torn.”

Strange inhaled shakily. “And if there was a rift of some kind,” he raised an incredulous, curious eyebrow, “would that make it easier to go from one world to another?”

“In theory?” Hank interjected. “Yes.”

Carol cleared her throat. “Let’s say that’s right. How would someone do something like that?”

“Some beings could manage it, especially with the aid of spells or certain tools and relics. And it wouldn’t be hard if someone had a machine or pathway of some kind,” Loki admitted.

In a tight voice, Scott said, “Like, say, a Quantum machine that was used for time travel?”

Loki barked out a laugh. “Yes, that would probably do it.” His smirk instantly faded when he saw the grave looks on everyone else’s faces. He turned in the chair, facing Thor head-on. “You didn’t,” the Trickster whispered darkly.

“There was no other way!” Thor’s response was defensive.

Loki slapped the table in frustration. He looked to Doctor Strange. “You protect Time. How could you take such a risk?”

Strange recoiled. “I didn’t do it. They did,” he nodded toward the members of the table who had participated in the Time Heist. Loki wheeled on them instantly.

Bruce held his hands up in defense. “The only way to defeat Thanos was to beat him at his own game,” he began cautiously. “So, three years ago, we traveled through the Quantum Realm to go back in time and collect the Infinity Stones.”

An odd expression flickered across Loki’s face. “You. . . collected the Stones?”

“We took them all back,” Bruce deadpanned.

“Damn,” Loki hissed, winking. His eyes twinkled with pure mischief and Peter couldn’t help smiling at him. Just as quickly as the playful tone had come, it disappeared and the group sobered again.

Carol waved her hands. “Okay, I’ll admit: I’m kind of lost. What does the Heist have to do with the Multiverse? Why is this a problem?”

Hank let out a heavy sigh. “If they tore a hole in space-time when they traveled back and forth,” the older man posited, “then it’s possible that we brought this new threat on ourselves.”

Carol frowned. “How?”

“By creating a rift in the space-time continuum,” Peter answered. “Entanglement, remember?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Then again,” Loki inserted, causing everyone to look at him. “All of this theorizing could be simply that – no more than theory.”

Hank scoffed. “As in, there is no right or wrong answer?”

Loki fixed him with a stern look. “More like, there’s no way to know. The Multiverse is a mystery to all, save for those above and beyond it.”

Rocket scrunched up his nose. “Whaddya mean by that? Who the hell is ‘above or beyond’ the universe?”

There was a pregnant pause before Loki let out the most irritated sigh Peter had ever heard. It was slightly reminiscent of MJ, which just made Pete’s heart ache at the memory of their less-than-amicable parting. “The universe you know is but a single continuity of reality, Rocket,” Loki continued.

“I am Groot,” Groot pitched in. Rocket rolled his eyes, but Loki nodded.

“Precisely.” Loki nodded at the tree.

Thor looked at Groot incredulously. “Explain, Tree.”

Just as Groot opened his mouth, Bruce threw his hands up in a time-out motion. “Remember, not all of us speak Groot. So, um, maybe, someone else can explain?”

Rocket groaned as he jumped up onto the table. “What Groot said was that Frosty here,” he gestured to Loki, earning a growl from the Trickster, “is saying is that there are different layers to reality or ‘verses.”

“Layers?” Scott asked. “Oh, like an onion!” he exclaimed with a chuckle. Bruce tried to contain a snicker and Peter laughed openly at the _Shrek_ reference. But everyone else just stared, so Scott shrank back into his seat. “I’ll shut up now. Please, continue.”

“You live in your universe, which is but one version of reality,” Loki explained. “But this Earth as you know it is not all that exists.”

“As much as I hate to agree,” Nebula finally spoke up, “Laufeyson is right. There are universes, realms, dimensions—”

“And Megaverses. Just to name a few,” Loki finished. He and Nebula avoided eye contact and the Luphomoid fell silent again as Loki carried on. “All things exist within the Omniverse, which encompasses all realities. Only extremely powerful beings like Eternals or Celestials could even come close to knowing the full extent of the Omniverse.”

“Ooh, like Quill’s dad?” Rocket asked, hopping up and down excitedly. At the confused looks, Rocket scowled. “Oh, what? You guys missed that memo? Quill’s bio-dad was a fuckin’ _planet_. Pretty sure he coulda told us some shit about all this.” He sighed. “But we blew him up.”

“That sounds. . . harsh,” Carol muttered.

“It was necessary,” Nebula told her plainly.

Peter turned to Loki. “You mentioned a Megaverse. What’s that?”

“Structures between worlds,” Loki answered. “They link realities that are closely aligned, or can lead to dimensions that are difficult to get to – such as the Shadowline or the Soul World.”

Peter nodded like he understood. But really, the more everyone talked, the more confused he felt.

Bruce let out a quiet huff. “This is all hypothetical, though. I mean, we still don’t have _proof_ that—”

“Strange,” Loki interrupted, glancing toward the doctor. “You’re familiar with the Dark dimension, yes?”

The Sorcerer’s face turned slightly ashy as he nodded.

Then, back to Bruce, Loki said, “And you’ve seen the different Realms, Bruce – Asgard and Sakaar; you know that time moves differently in those places.” His eyes scanned the table. “Many of you have been to other planets and Realms. Several of you have traveled through time – to different instances of your own reality.” Leaning back with a smug look on his face, Loki shrugged. “So, you have evidence of the Multiverse. Doesn’t explain how it works, but it is indeed real.”

Hank shook his head softly, looking down at the table. “Maybe we did bring this on ourselves.”

Peter’s heart sank as the words settled in. Because if all of their theories were right, then that meant that it was, in fact, very likely that they opened a hole in their world which would allow others to enter in. Even if someone, like this Nathaniel and whatever threat he was prophesying, had planned to come anyway – well, the Avengers had still probably made it easier.

In an attempt to ease things, Peter blurted out, “The Heisenberg Principle.” After a few raised eyebrows, he explained: “The Heisenberg Principle says that merely having an observer can change the entire outcome of an experiment.”

“I am Groot?” Groot asked. Peter glanced to the three people who actually understood the tree.

Rocket rolled his eyes. “He wants to know what your point is.”

Groot glared at Rocket, obviously ticked off that Rocket hadn’t conveyed his message word-for-word in a more polite manner. But Peter smiled at the tree, getting the gist. “If we subscribe to Heisenberg’s theory, either instead of or in addition to Einstein’s and the other’s, then it’s possible that we don’t even need to _do_ anything to influence things. Just knowing that the Multiverse exists could be enough to create a rift or something.” Pete knew it was a long shot, but it made _him_ feel a little better and that was enough.

“Or,” Carol started, “maybe you’re all wrong. As Csikszentmihalyi implied about Flow Theory, all things are all other things and there is no difference. Time and space are illusions and all things flow, one into the other, merely becoming more of themselves.”

Everyone stared at the Captain in silence. She furrowed her brows, looking offended. “What? I said I didn’t understand Quantum theory. That doesn’t mean I’m a total idiot.”

That seemed to be enough to break the tension and the group laughed. Then, Hank stood up. “Well, this has been revealing. I think we should all consider these theories a bit more, and just keep them in our back-pockets for now.”

After the others agreed, and with seemingly nothing else to say, Hank and Scott left. With that, the rest of their little club started to break up and go their separate ways. Rocket climbed onto Groot’s shoulder, announcing that they were going to get some weapons to take out to the field.

“Oh, for target practice?” Peter asked.

“Uh.” Rocket blinked at him. “Yeah, sure.” He gave a toothy grin as Groot walked away.

Finally, only Peter and Carol were left standing in the cafeteria. But the second he had that thought, Peter’s Senses started tingling, telling him that was wrong. He turned around to find that Loki still there, standing behind him with a pensive look on his face.

“Oh, Mr. Loki. What’s up?” Pete asked, cocking his head to the side.

Loki bit his lip, looking hesitant. “There’s something I want to tell you. You might already know, but in case you don’t. . .” he let his words taper off into silence. It almost looked like he was waiting for permission.

Peter nodded toward the table they’d just left and Loki quickly sat down with his back to the table so he could still look at Peter and Carol. “Tell me,” Peter prodded gently, as Carol wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

“I mentioned that some beings could traverse the Multiverse,” Loki began.

Pete nodded. “Yeah, like with Scott’s machines or someone with powers like the Celestials or whatever, right?”

Loki nodded tersely. “Those aren’t the only ways, though. Someone who can manipulate reality could do it, too.” The Trickster took a moment to glance around but apparently he didn’t find what he was looking for since the cafeteria was empty. So, he shook his head and turned his attention back to the pair in front of him. “Another way would be with the use of a tool or relic.” Slowly, he said, “Like a Sling Ring.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Like Doctor Strange and Master Wong?”

“That’s how the good doctor was able to get to the Dark dimension.” Loki smiled fondly at the ground. “Although, I doubt he’s aware of all that he’s capable of yet.” There was a pause and Loki closed his eyes. “I am also capable.”

“You?” Carol asked, propping her leg up on the seat next to where Loki was sitting. “How?”

“I manipulate space when I skywalk,” Loki told her matter-of-factly. “Manipulating space _and_ time is a bit more complex, but I _can_ do it.” Then, with a pointed look, he said, “I don’t. And I haven’t. And, if I can avoid it, I won’t. Too risky.”

Peter stared at the Asgardian for a moment before frowning. “Why are you telling us this?” He paused briefly before amending his statement to, “I mean, why _just_ us? Why didn’t you tell the whole group when we were all talking?”

Looking into Peter’s eyes, Loki very seriously said, “Because I wasn’t sure you’d want everyone to know that you can do it, as well.”

Peter stared back into the blue-green eyes in silence for a few seconds before he doubled over laughing. It was a good minute or so before he pulled himself together enough to stand up straight. Still chuckling, and wiping tears from his eyes, Pete shook his head. “That’s a good one.”

“This is not a jest,” Loki insisted. Peter considered bursting into laughter again but he caught sight once more of Loki’s eyes, and he froze. There was no humor in the Trickster’s face, and his Spidey-Senses told him that the words were genuine.

Quietly, Peter asked, “You’re telling the truth?” When Loki nodded, Peter exhaled forcefully. “How is that possible? How would _I_ —”

“You’re a Totem,” Loki inserted.

“A _Totem_?” Carol repeated incredulously. Oh yeah. Peter had forgotten she was there.

“A Totemic being,” Loki clarified. He jerked his head in a vague direction. “Your Black Panther is one, as well.” Then with a sly grin, Loki said, “But, if you ask me, I think you are much stronger.”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Well, since I’m not one, I don’t know, entirely,” Loki admitted. “But from what I’ve gleaned over the centuries, you’re linked to the human and animal kingdoms. Almost spiritually, if you will.”

“But.” Peter shook his head. “T’Challa’s powers _are_ spiritual, or at least cultural. Mine aren’t. I mean—" He scoffed. “I was bit by a radioactive spider in a lab.”

“Doesn’t matter how it happened,” Loki stated, waving a hand dismissively. “You are directly linked to the Animal Kingdom. This link connects you to an avatar that oversees your Totemic group.”

Carol held her hands up. “Slow your roll,” she commanded. “Avatar? Totemic group?”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

At Carol’s snarl, Peter leaned forward, blocking her view of Loki in an effort to stay on track. “How would any of that allow me to travel across the Multiverse?”

“I’ve heard rumors,” Loki began. “There may be a Megaverse that serves as a bridge between all universes, which can only be traveled by certain Totemic beings.”

“Aaaaaaand what makes you think that might relate to _me_?” Peter queried.

“Because.” Loki arched a brow and leaned back against the table with a smirk. “They call it the _Spiderverse_.”

In the next instant, Loki was standing and straightening out his tunic. “I just thought you’d like to know.” He held up a hand. “I have no idea how you would access it, nor what it means, really. But if it’s important, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He smiled at Peter, then at Carol. There was a shimmer of green and gold, as his clothing changed to black jeans and a green v-neck but he still wore his long, black Asgardian coat which, sort of unfairly, made him look like a goth Abercrombie model. “Now,” he said, fixing the collar of his coat, “I have some other matters to tend to.”

Then, in another swirl of green and gold, the Trickster was gone. Peter looked at Carol, who reached down to pick up Chewie off the floor. Holding him and stroking his fur, Carol shook her head. “I feel like it speaks volumes about my life that none of this weird shit really surprises me anymore. Ya know?”

But Peter didn’t really hear her as he replayed Loki’s words in his head. So all he could do was nod and stare numbly at where Loki had been standing.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Morgan had texted her mom that she had a movie night with Shuri and they were camping out in one of the rec rooms. She had Shuri tell Okoye and T’Challa the same thing. That way, they were able to stay out all night without having search parties out after them.

There was a clearing in the wooded area near the shed where Morgan’s lab was. That’s where she led Shuri and Vision. They sat on a log and filled Vision in on what he’d missed since his demise in the first battle against Thanos.

“Tony’s dead?” he asked when they were finished. As quickly as the words left his mouth, he turned to Morgan. “I apologize,” he told her softly.

“It’s okay,” she replied, her voice gentle. “Yeah, he’s gone. He died a hero. He saved _everyone_.” There was a tone of reverence in the girl’s voice, which she always seemed to get when she talked about her dad.

“And Captain Rogers has, erm, retired,” Shuri reiterated.

Vision nodded. So far, he seemed to be taking everything in stride. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “Thank you,” he said as he tilted his head back to look up at the sky. Then he looked back down, glancing from Morgan to Shuri and back. “For bringing me back.”

“We couldn’t give up on you,” Morgan told him.

“You’re feeling all right, then?” Shuri asked, concern still etched on her face.

Vision chuckled and stood up, walking a few paces forward. “I am certain it will take some getting used to,” he admitted. He must be feeling pretty good, Morgan had already decided, since he had managed to maintain his ‘human’ appearance, rather than going back to the red android look. As he turned to face the girls, there was a kind smile on his face. “Ultimately? Yes, I am fine.”

At that, Morgan’s face lit up and she all but leapt off the log. She surged forward and grabbed Vision’s hand – which was much softer than she’d expected. “Good!” She started walking out of the clearing, dragging the man behind her. “We need to tell the others.”

“Morgan, wait!” Shuri called. She ran ahead of the smaller girl, stopping her.

“Why wait?” Morgan was confused.

Shuri chewed on the inside of cheek and looked sheepishly at Vision. “It’s just—” She sighed. “Well, we just brought someone back from the dead. How do you think people are going to feel about that?”

Morgan gave her friend an incredulous look. “Um, happy?” She started walking again, pushing past Shuri and still tugging Vision along with her.

“I’m just saying,” Shuri growled, grabbing Morgan’s arm to make her stop again. “We might want to take it slowly?”

There was silence as Morgan considered that. Then, she beamed at her friend. “You’re right – we should tell Wanda first!”

“Wanda?” Vision asked suddenly, his eyes going wide. “She’s _here_?”

“Of course she is.” Morgan scoffed.

Shuri opened her mouth to say something but didn’t get the chance before Vision let go of Morgan’s hand and took off, literally _disappearing_ ahead of them.

“Uh-oh,” Morgan murmured.

Shuri slapped her on the shoulder and swore under her breath. Then she grabbed Morgan’s sleeve and started dragging her forward. “We have to find him!”

Morgan agreed and they both sprinted toward the main building of the Compound.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Rocket and Groot were walking down the hallway, when they turned a corner and almost crashed into Loki. Groot rocked to stabilize himself, sending the raccoon tumbling to the floor. He stood up and dusted himself off before charging up to Loki.

“Shit!” Rocket snarled. “Ya can’t just jump out and scare people like that!”

“I am Groot. . .” (“ _Technically, he didn’t_ jump _out at us_ …”)

Rocket smacked Groot’s trunk. “Whose side are you on here anyway?!” When he heard Loki chuckling, it just made him feel more on edge. He whirled around to face the mage. “What do you want?”

Loki put a hand on the wall and leaned against it, propping himself up. “I considered your request.”

“Huh?” Rocket asked, a moment before his memory came rushing back. “Ohhhhh,” he said. “And let me guess: The answer’s still no?” he hissed.

“Actually,” Loki gave a smug grin. “I have a compromise.”

Rocket’s nose twitched in disdain. “I don’t do compromises.”

Loki stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “I think you’ll be pleased,” he said, almost in a sing-song voice.

The two stared at each other for a minute, with Groot watching them from the background. Finally, Rocket sighed. “A’right, whatcha got?”

With his free hand, Loki reached into his coat pocket. Then, he held his fist out. Rocket eyed him suspiciously, but held out an open paw. Loki opened his hand and dropped a stone into Rocket’s waiting palm.

Greedily, Rocket tugged his paw close and started inspecting the stone. After a few seconds, he squeezed it in his fist and looked up at the god. “What’s this?”

“I don’t trust your battery capsule _things_ ,” Loki stated disdainfully. “So I’m giving you this instead.” Then, he crouched down to be face-to-face with Rocket. “This stone is from a sacred River on Asgard. It was blessed by the Allfather in one of the great Wells at the base of the World Tree.”

Rocket raised a brow. “So?”

“It’s very magical,” Loki told him plainly.

To check, Rocket pulled his viewing glass out of his pocket and held it in front of his eye as he looked at the stone. Sure enough, the rock was radiating all kinds of power – ancient, intense power. But there was something else, too.

“This has your magic in it, too,” Rocket told him, recognizing one of the stone’s energy signatures as being the same as what he saw when he looked at the being in front of him.

“You’re right,” Loki confirmed. “I infused some of my seiðr into it, for an extra kick.” His lip curled into a half-smile. “This stone is enchanted to fulfill whatever you need it to do exactly three times.”

Rocket’s jaw dropped and he looked up at Loki with wonder.

Loki held up a finger. “It has limitations. It’s not all-powerful. You told me your capsules are for emergencies, so think of this,” he nodded toward the stone, “as another one of your batteries. All you need to do is hold it and tell it what it needs to do.”

Rocket nodded, his jaw and eyes still wide. As he pocketed the stone, Loki added, “It also will not work for anything nefarious. Good intentions, only.”

“Killjoy,” Rocket quipped.

Loki winked at him. “I have to keep up appearances, don’t I?” Then, he stood to his full height.

Rocket smiled up at him. “Thanks, I guess,” he muttered. But he made sure to look into Loki’s eyes to show that he meant it, even if it did pain him to say it out loud.

With but a nod, Loki patted Rocket’s head, nodded to Groot, and then turned to walk away. Green light engulfed him and he disappeared. Rocket placed his paw over the pocket where he’d tucked the stone, squeezing it through the leather of his vest and feeling oddly warmed by the whole thing.

“I am Groot.” ( _“Admit it – you’re getting soft.”_ )

“Shut up,” Rocket snapped. But there was no real heat in his voice, so Groot smiled and continued walking down the hall with his friend by his side.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

“Sam!” Wanda called as she hurried down the hallway. Sam stopped and waited for her to catch up to him. “If Scott’s friends are guarding Nathaniel, what happens to the rest of us who were scheduled?”

“Everybody will still be on a rotation,” he told her. “But instead of every two people four hours all the time, Kurt and Luis will do something like an eight-hour shift during the day. Maybe with one person checking on them once in a while. Then, back to the two people every four hours for the evening and overnight.”

Wanda nodded. “So when will Strange and I have our shift?”

Sam shrugged. “You guys were gonna be this morning, so you’ll just move to the evening. Like, the first shift once Kurt and Luis come off. Sound good?”

" _Perfektný_ ,” she answered.

Sam chuckled. “Um,” he looked up, thinking. “ _Dobrý_?” the leader replied uncertainly.

“So close!” Bucky called as he jogged up, stopping beside Wanda and placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam groaned. “We can’t all be masters of languages!” He looked between the man and woman with a smile. “How’d I screw that one up?”

“Well, you were speaking Czech while she was speaking Slovak, for one.” Bucky grinned.

“Pfft. Semantics.” Sam rolled his eyes. “You told me those languages are all similar.”

“Similar, yes. The same, not so much,” Wanda stated.

“Thanks, Yoda,” Sam said playfully.

Bucky squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “Also. Your pronunciation?” He grimaced, wobbling his free hand in the air and letting out a squeaky, “Meh.”

Sam shoved Bucky’s arm off of him. “Can’t say I didn’t try!”

“True,” Wanda credited him that. Then, laughing, Sam walked past her. “Buck,” the Sokovian greeted with a nod. She gave him a sly grin, causing Bucky to narrow his eyes at her.

“What?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just saying hi.” The pair started walking and Wanda glanced sideways at the Soldier. “So. . .” She let out a sigh. “ _Jak się masz_?”

“You just saw me. You know how I’m doing. I’m fine.” Bucky gave her a quizzical look.

“I think you’re more than fine,” Wanda told him. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively as she came to a halt. Bucky laughed and stopped walking, turning to his friend.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he inquired.

“Nothing,” Wanda hummed, glancing around the hallway suspiciously.

“Wanda.” Buck’s voice was a low growl.

With a sigh, the woman finally locked eyes with Bucky. “ _Kdo je ten chlap?_ ”

Bucky snorted. He placed both hands on Wanda’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “There is no guy.”

She surveyed him carefully before frowning. “Well, you’re gettin’ some from _somebody_.”

“Maximoff!” Bucky chastised loudly. When Wanda’s intense gaze didn’t falter, he grinned and held up his metal hand. “We’ve had a few dates, this guy and me.”

Wanda shoved Bucky’s rock-hard chest. He didn’t move, of course, but it was the thought that counted, right? “Be serious!”

“I am!” he insisted, wiggling his fingers. “You should see what these babies can do.”

“Ew!” Wanda stuck her tongue out and started walking away.

“I think it’s true love!” Bucky called after her. She laughed as she broke into a run, darting down the stairs to get away from him.

Panting, Wanda finally slowed down at the bottom of the steps. She chuckled to herself as she approached her apartment and went inside. Closing the door behind her, she leaned back against it with a sigh. The warm, giddy feeling from joking with Bucky faded quickly as Wanda looked around her empty living space. She went into the kitchenette, looking for some way to keep busy. There was a mug she could wash from when she’d had some warm milk the night before. Pulling her hair back so it was out of her face, she stepped toward the sink.

Just as she was about to turn on the faucet, there was a rattling noise from her bedroom. Wanda whirled around, her hands instantly alighting with red energy and in a defensive position.

Slowly, Wanda made her way out of the kitchen and started toward the bedroom. She paused at the doorway, listening. When there was a soft shuffling noise confirming that someone was in there, she sucked in a deep breath before shooting out a scarlet blast into the room; it would be enough to knock someone down without really harming them too much, just in case it was a friend trying to surprise her.

At the sound of someone thudding to the ground, Wanda burst into the room. She kept her hands up and armed. “Show yourself!” she shouted.

The seconds seemed to last an eternity. Finally, from the floor on the other side of the bed, two arms shot up into the air, in surrender.

“Come out here,” Wanda ordered, still refusing to lower her glowing hands.

The person pushed off the bed and stood up before lifting his hands back into the air and standing still. Wanda gasped as the man gave her a small smile.

“ _Nemožné_ ,” she mumbled, blinking in disbelief at the sight in front of her. Then, the shock settled in and she fainted.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Ava grumbled to herself as she hurried down the hallway of the Compound. Hank and Scott were both talking to Peter in the cafeteria. Cassie was keeping Janet and Hope busy getting things ready for their outdoor activities and BBQ. So Ava had taken the ruined particle accelerator from Cassie and stuffed it in her pocket. Now, she was rushing down the hall to one of the labs Hank kept in the Compound – sort of a home-away-from-home type of deal.

“How do I let ‘er talk me into this shite?” she muttered as she reached the lab. She stood in front of the door, trying to decide if she should actually go in.

Finally, with a sigh, Ava dematerialized and stepped through the door. She found herself on the other side and quickly locked the door behind her, just so Hank or somebody else couldn’t take her completely by surprise.

Sighing, Ava set the broken device on the counter and took a quick look at it. Once she thought she knew what she needed, she started rifling through the drawers. Finally, she found a glass capsule, which looked like it would fit in the gauntlet. She hoped Cassie had meant it about being able to fix it herself.

“Now, if I were Hank,” she whispered to herself. “Where would I keep extra Pym Particles?”

She wandered the lab some more before finally finding a locked metal cabinet. It had “FRAGILE” and “TOP SECRET” labels all over it, along with Pym’s name. So, of course, that _had_ to be what she was looking for.

After thinking for a moment, Ava decided to at least try finding a key. She searched drawers and doorjambs, to no avail. After doing everything but tear the lab apart, Ava realized the key was nowhere to be found. “He probably carries it with him.”

“Ugh. Fine,” she hissed, stepping back over to the cabinet. She pulled the bobby pin from her hair, causing her bun to fall. Scooping her hair out of her face, she modified the pin to work like a skeleton key before sliding it in the cabinet’s lock.

When nothing happened, she growled. Carefully, Ava pulled back on the pin, trying to take stock of how the parts moved within the lock. She quickly adjusted the pin again and slid it back in. It almost turned, but not quite.

Twisting the bobby some more, she mumbled, “This oughta do it.” With a deep breath, she slid the pin in the keyhole. Closing her eyes, she twisted it.

It was only after hearing a soft _click_ that she released her breath. Ava pulled the door open, but what she saw inside gave her pause.

Because, it wasn’t just Pym Particles.

There were also several vials of Quantum Particles.

Ava furrowed her brow in confusion. “What’re you doin’ with all these, Hank?” Ava mused.

She grabbed a few and held them up to the light, inspecting them. They all looked the same, kind of like her stabilization bands, actually – shimmering silver orbs rolling around, crashing into one another and melting together into what looked like a liquid, sloshing about before separating and starting over again.

Shaking her head, Ava grabbed a couple capsules of Pym particles, along with one filled with Quantum cells for good measure. She carried the few vials over to the counter to put them with the gauntlet and the piece she’d found to use for repairs. Just as she grabbed everything up, the door handle of the lab rattled. Ava’s head snapped toward the door but otherwise she froze.

The knob turned part of the way before stopping again from the lock. Then, she could hear a keychain jingling. It had to be Hank, or maybe Janet – someone with a key to the lab. Ava glanced around, looking for somewhere to hide. Concealing the items she held into her pockets, she ducked into a space under a table and made herself as small as she could. Just as she heard a key in the door, she felt her heart skip a beat.

She’d left the cabinet unlocked and wide open.

The door to the lab swung open. Which meant it was too late to do anything without being caught and admitting to what she was doing there. Which would mean outing Cassie’s ‘Stinger’ persona and opening up a whole new set of problems with that. So, for the moment, Ava decided to stay put.

She barely breathed as footsteps walked into the room.

“I swear I didn’t lock that door,” Hank mumbled. Ava watched the man cross the room. He was humming to himself as he thumbed through some papers. He opened a drawer and dug around for a minute.

“Hank?” Scott called from the hallway, making Hank turn. Ava shrunk back in her hiding space, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t look her way. “Let’s go!” Scott yelled.

“Yeah, I’m coming!” Hank hollered back. “Ah, there it is!” The man grabbed his cell phone off the counter, tucking it in his pocket. Then he walked back out, closing the door behind him.

Ava crawled out from under the table, collapsing and breathing hard in relief. Her heart thundered in her ears. She jumped up and rushed over to close the cabinet door before anything else happened. Worried that Hank or Scott might still be nearby, or that they might come back, Ava waited a minute.

When she finally felt like the coast was clear enough for her to leave, she didn’t waste a second darting for the door. Unfortunately, in her rush, she misjudged where she was and also didn’t take the time to adjust her matter, so she rammed her hip into the corner of one of the counters.

“Ow!” she groaned, registering a second too late that she’d heard something shatter. She reached her hand into her pocket, gasping as she sliced her finger on a shard from one of the now-broken glass vials. Carefully, Ava tried to collect the items in her pocket, which was easier said than done since the particles had oozed out and were slippery, but quickly turning to a gel-like substance as they mingled together.

Finally, she pulled out the broken accelerator, which was covered in Pym and Quantum particle _goop_. She sighed, closing her hand around the device.

Then she heard a click.

Ava realized that she must have pressed a button on the object, because the materials covering the accelerator—which must not have been as ‘broken’ as she and Cassie had thought—started glowing.

“Well, that can’t be good,” she said aloud. Everything froze. The clock, which had been incessantly ticking in the background, was suddenly silent.

The whole room burst into a flash of light, then darkness. It was eerily still and quiet, like being in a vacuum. And then, Ava was falling.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Morgan burst through the doors of the Compound, hot on Shuri’s heels. They wheeled around the furniture in the lobby, heading for the hallway leading to the living areas. Once they rounded the corner, Shuri skidded to a halt and Morgan barely managed to stop herself from crashing into her friend.

“Where are you girls rushing off to?” Rhodey asked, blocking their path in the hall.

“Nowhere,” Morgan lied, panting.

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Good.” He grabbed both of them by the shoulders, turning them around so they were on either side of him, and started walking them back to the main lobby. “Then you won’t have any problem helping me set up the grill and stuff for the bar-be-que.”

The two exchanged looks and grumbled nonsensically but admittedly, they couldn’t put up much of an argument. So they walked with Rhodey to a storage closet near the kitchens. Harley was already there waiting for them with a Radio Flyer. They all started grabbing packages of hot dogs, hamburgers, buns, and chips, piling them into the red wagon. Pepper showed up with a couple coolers, which Morgan helped fill with ice. Then they put cans of soda and bottles of water in them.

Then, Rhodey and Harley headed to Harley’s shop to get charcoal and lighter fluid, so they could go light up the grills, which were free-standing out in the field area – designed to be like picnics in city parks.

“FRIDAY,” Pepper called as she closed the last cooler once it was full. “How are we lookin’ on weather?”

“ _No signs of inclement weather,_ ” the AI answered cheerily.

“Perfect!” Pepper smiled at Shuri and Morgan. “Okay, let’s grab the paper products and then head out!”

Morgan groaned and Shuri offered a forced smile as Pepper handed them the packages of paper plates and plastic silverware and red Solo cups. Morgan tossed several pouches of napkins and rolls of paper towels into the wagon, which was piled precariously high.

“All right!” Pepper squeezed her daughter’s shoulder comfortingly. “I’ll get the wagon, you both get the coolers.” She grabbed the handle of the Flyer and started out into the hallway.

As Morgan and Shuri dutifully followed, Morgan looked over to her friend. “We need a plan.”

Shuri side-eyed her curiously. “What do you propose, oh brilliant one?”

“You almost sound like you don’t trust me,” Morgan muttered.

They were crossing the lobby when Morgan’s savior arrived.

“Morgan!” Loki called from the top of the stairs. Morgan turned and smiled, waving. Pepper and Shuri both stopped, watching as the god hurried down the steps and approached. “Princess,” Loki said with a nod toward Shuri. When she looked surprised that he knew her, he nodded toward Morgan. “Your reputation precedes you.”

Shuri chuckled and bumped shoulders with her friend.

Then Loki turned to Pepper. “I wondered if I could borrow your daughter for a moment?” he asked softly.

Pepper gave him a wide smile. “Sure.” She looked at Morgan. “Don’t be too long. And make sure to bring those coolers out to the field when you’re done.”

Morgan nodded. She and Shuri shared _a look_ before Pepper and the Wakandan were off again to go deliver their items. Morgan watched them leave before turning to Loki. He was eyeing the coolers.

“Drinks,” Morgan told him. “For our lunch.”

“Ah.” The Trickster grinned at her. Then, he waved a hand toward the chairs and Morgan nodded, following him to the seating area.

“So,” Morgan said as she settled into a chair. “What’s up, Uncle Loki?” she asked with a smile.

Loki paused halfway through settling into his seat across from her, a soft expression on his face. Then he collected himself and sat on the edge of the chair. “I don’t like many people,” he admitted somberly. “And most don’t like me.”

Morgan frowned.

“But,” Loki continued, his smile returning. “You fascinate me, Tiny Tin One.”

The little girl beamed at him, both at the praise and the nickname. “You’re pretty interesting, too,” she returned the compliment.

“I’ve noticed,” Loki started, “you seem to pack things around quite often.”

“Yeah.” Morgan sighed, thinking of the backpack Loki had seen her with and how she always had some kind of bag if not that. “If it’s not for my inventions, then it’s for school. Or, something.” With a grin, she glanced to the coolers a few feet away.

“I like you, Mini Stark.” Loki gave her a fond smile and Morgan felt her cheeks flush. There was a glint in Loki’s eyes and he curled his lips into a smirk. “I am the God of Mischief, you know that, yes?”

Morgan nodded.

“Do you know what else I am God over?”

The girl thought for a moment before shaking her head in the negative. “Not really.”

With a sigh, Loki leaned back in his seat. “Lies,” he stated. Morgan cocked her head to the side. “That’s what most know me for.” He shrugged his shoulders, popping the joints. “I’ve been called many things – Liesmith, Silvertongue, manipulator, Trickster.” He locked eyes with Morgan. “The interesting thing is, I never really lied overly much.”

“Then why do they call you the God of Lies?” Morgan asked in a quiet voice.

“Why, indeed.” Loki exhaled deeply before sitting up straight again. “I would tell small lies here and there. Many seemed inconsequential; more like half-truths really.” He gave a toothy grin, reminding Morgan of Rocket when he was scheming. “The best manipulation, though, is often a well-placed truth.” With disdain, Loki added, “But many do not want the truth. They think they do, but they don’t. Not really. So when they hear it, and it’s something they don’t like, they deny it. They call it a lie and turn away, placing blame on the one who delivered the information.”

“They shoot the messenger,” Morgan supplied.

Loki quirked an eyebrow curiously before smiling. “That they do, Little One.” Then, Loki’s smile faded slightly. “After centuries of being called a Liar, I decided I might as well make honest men of those who called me that.”

Morgan exhaled and reached her hand out, placing it on Loki’s knee. “I’m sorry,” she told him. He looked down at her small hand and placed his on top of it.

“I’m known for much more than just Tricks and Lies, though. Did you ever know that?”

“No,” Morgan admitted. She looked down, feeling oddly embarrassed. But Loki only chuckled and placed a hand under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.

“Few do,” he whispered. “So, there’s Mischief and Lies. And, of course, Chaos.” Loki’s eyes sparkled on that word, and Morgan couldn’t help feeling like hers might have done the same. She’d always liked when things were a bit of a wild card.

“But I also preside over Outcasts,” Loki continued. “Creativity and Cleverness. And Fire.” The god let out a bitter laugh. “I suppose that was Odin’s attempt at humor – granting his adopted Frost Giant son dominion over _fire_.”

Morgan blinked at Loki, quirking an eyebrow. He noticed and exhaled sharply through his nose.

“I’m digressing.” He shook his head. “The point here, Tiny Tin One, is that I admire your tenacity. You have a spark, with your projects. You’re precocious.”

If Morgan didn’t know better, she would have sworn there were tears in the corner of Loki’s eyes. He blinked a few times quickly and they disappeared, so she had to have been imagining it.

The little girl was trying to think of something to say, when Loki suddenly stood. He reached into his coat pocket. “I have something for you.”

Curiosity piqued, Morgan stood up, too. Loki pulled his hand out of his pocket, bringing with it a folded-up article of clothing. He shook it out, revealing a black coat. It was similar to the one he was wearing but obviously much smaller. In fact, Morgan thought it looked like it would be just the perfect fit for _her_.

And then the girl’s heart all but stopped when Loki held the coat out to her.

She grasped the coat by the lapels and stared at it, wide-eyed. It was soft yet firm, just like Loki’s. Pulling it close, she inhaled and the scent of wild berries and herbs hit her. She solidified the scent in her mind as _Loki_ and hugged the garment to her. Looking up into the god’s eyes, Morgan smiled.

“Put it on,” Loki instructed. Morgan was more than happy to comply, slipping her arm into the first sleeve. She spun around, allowing Loki to help shrug the other sleeve over her arm.

“It’s perfect,” Morgan breathed. She ran her fingers over the material, eyes growing ever wider as she realized that the jacket actually felt cool against her – despite the fact that it was summer.

As if reading her mind, Loki said, “It will adjust to your needs.”

“Wait.” Morgan gaped at the Asgardian. “Like, it’ll keep me cool when it’s hot out and warm when it’s cold?” At Loki’s nod, Morgan whistled.

Loki leaned forward and stage-whispered, “Try the pockets.” He raised a brow as he added, “All of them.”

Morgan scrunched her face in confusion but did as she was bade. She stuck her hands in the two outer pockets on her sides, wiggling her fingers in them. Then, she opened the coat up and inspected the inside, where she found one more, smaller pocket. She stuck her hand in, expecting something like a small slot for her cell phone. But once she fit her whole hand in and couldn’t feel the bottom, she kept pushing until her arm was in the pocket up to her elbow – stopping only because she couldn’t bend any further with the coat _on_. Moving her hand around, she never actually felt the fabric of the coat but, rather, just _space_.

She pulled her arm out and stared at her arm, then the pocket, then her arm, and finally looked to Loki.

“Is this a pocket-thing? Did you give me a coat with a pocket-thing?” Morgan screeched.

“No. I _made_ you one, though,” Loki corrected. He laughed when Morgan let out a squeal and threw her arms around him. There was only a second of hesitation, before Loki wrapped his arms around her in return.

“You’re colder than I thought you’d be,” Morgan mumbled into Loki’s hip.

He laughed again. Which Morgan thought sounded _almost_ as great as hearing JARVIS for the first time.

With that thought, Morgan pulled away. “Um, thank you,” she hurried to say. “I am, like, so appreciative. You have no idea.” She grinned. “But there is something I have to do. . .”

“I know.” Loki jerked his head toward the coolers.

“Oh, no, I—” But before Morgan could finish that thought, Loki grabbed her hand and the handles of the coolers. Then, she felt something tingling along her skin. The world around them disappeared in a vortex of light and color.

For a split second, they were weightless. Morgan saw what looked like the night sky all around her, with colors racing by in a blur. She could _feel_ time speeding up again, as everything started to swirl once more. And she desperately tried to take in as much as she could before there was a flash of gold, a pop of noise, and then the tingling sensation was gone and they were standing outside. At the base of the hill they were on was the field, where Morgan could see Rhodey, Harley, Shuri, and her mother. Several other Avengers were there too, including Thor, Valkyrie, and the Guardians.

Breathlessly, and clutching the coat tightly around her, Morgan looked up at Loki in awe. He was watching her with concern etched on his face. “I should have told you to close your eyes—”

“No way!” Morgan shook her head fervently. “Then I would have missed all of,” she paused, waving her hand in the air like a crazy person, “ _that_.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t bothered by skywalking?”

“Are you kidding?” she asked incredulously. “That was amazing!”

The fondness in Loki’s eyes turned up to 11 and it made Morgan’s adrenaline boost shoot even higher. They started down the hill toward the others and Morgan talked a mile a minute the whole way.

“Were we actually _in_ the sky? Or is that just what you call it? Why do you call it that? If we weren’t in the sky, where were we? Can anyone do that, or just you?” Loki chuckled, shaking his head affectionately. “Can we do that again?” Morgan pleaded. “Oh, and what was up with that tree?”

Loki froze, now only a few feet away from Pepper and the others.

“Tree?” Thor asked. Groot made a sound, probably akin to asking if someone was calling him. But Loki merely turned and looked at Morgan.

“You could _see_ the Tree?” he asked her.

She frowned. “Of course. We were literally standing on its roots!” She rolled her eyes and giggled.

“Brother?”

Loki held his hand up to Thor and leaned forward, looking Morgan in the eyes and placing his hands on her shoulders. “You are truly spectacular, Lady Morgan.” With that, he kissed her on the cheek and straightened up, taking the coolers over to Pepper.

Shuri looked at Morgan with curiosity as she stepped over. “What happened? And why are you wearing a _coat_?”

Morgan shook her head, giving Shuri a look that said ‘I’ll tell you later’ and sprinted over to stand next to Loki. She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly in hers. He looked down at her in surprise but didn’t let go or leave.

“Mom,” Morgan said softly. “Look at the coat Loki gave me!”

Pepper scanned up and down her daughter’s small frame, then smiled as she looked to the Trickster. “That was very thoughtful.”

“It stays cold in the heat, and warm in the cold. Neat, huh?” Morgan explained. She looked up at Loki and, as sneakily as possible, winked at him, letting the pocket-of-wonder aspect stay as their little secret. He grinned at her and winked back.

Shuri rubbed her fingers along the material, humming thoughtfully. “That could be very useful.” She waved her brother over from where Morgan hadn’t even noticed he’d been standing near Rhodey. “T’Challa, I have been meaning to make you a new suit. Something weatherized like this would serve as a very interesting upgrade, do you agree?”

Morgan held her arm out, nodding to allow the King to rub the material between his fingers. He nodded at his sister. “I concur.”

Shuri turned to Loki. “I don’t suppose you have swatches of this material, by chance?” There was a playful tone in her voice.

“I’m sure something could be arranged,” Thor interjected. “Tailors could craft something in New Asgard. Loki,” he looked at the dark-haired Prince, “you could help.”

Loki gave a minute nod. Shuri clapped her hands together and smiled widely. Then, Loki’s eyes drifted to the silver-toothed necklace around T’Challa’s neck. “Is that Vibranium?”

Shuri’s face lit up. “You have a keen eye, Prince Loki!”

T’Challa smiled, too. “The strongest known substance.”

To everyone’s surprise, Loki snorted.

“Loki,” Thor growled, fixing his brother with a chastising look.

The Trickster merely held his hands up defensively. But T’Challa folded his arms over his chest. “You know something stronger?”

“Uru,” Loki replied.

Okoye approached, clicking her tongue. “Unlike Uru, Vibranium is not a myth.”

“Or in short supply,” Shuri added, earning a glare from her brother.

“Beg pardon, Warrior, but Uru is no myth.”

Thor stepped forward, wrapped his arm around Loki’s shoulders and tugging him close. “Shut up,” he whispered in Loki’s ear.

“You must tell me more!” Shuri’s eyes were sparkling as she looked at Loki. T’Challa groaned and grabbed his sister’s hand, dragging her away. Okoye followed, shaking her head.

“Morg!” Harley called. “Come help me with this firewood.”

With a sigh, Morgan released Loki’s hand. “I’ll be back,” she promised before darting over to Harley.

“She’s really taken to you,” Pepper mused.

“I’m quite taken with her, as well,” Loki admitted.

Pepper looked toward her daughter, piling up firewood with Harley, in the coat Loki had given her. She turned back and bit her lip before speaking. “Y’know, if you’re planning on sticking around, I could use some help keeping an eye on her. Usually it’s just me or Wanda on full-time Morgan duty and that can get tiring. It’d be nice to have someone else take over.”

Loki’s jaw dropped. “You would have me watch her?” he asked. Before he could stop himself, he added, “Seriously?”

“Sure,” Pepper told him easily. Then she frowned. “Unless you don’t want to or if she’s too much for you—"

“No!” Loki exclaimed, holding up a hand. “I was just. . . surprised.” He cleared his throat and stood up, straightening out his shirt in an effort to collect himself somewhat. “It would be my great pleasure, Lady Pepper.”

“Loki!” Morgan hollered, waving her arms. The three of them looked to Morgan and Loki chuckled.

“It seems I am being hailed.” Then, he turned back to Pepper and quietly said, “Thank you.”

Pepper raised a brow questioningly. “For your trust,” Loki said as he nodded toward Morgan. “And for your words of welcome yesterday.”

“Oh!” Pepper waved a hand. “Of course.”

“It truly means a great deal to me,” Loki told her, locking eyes with intensity.

Pepper nodded resolutely. “We’re all different people. It’s a different _world_ ,” she stated with a sigh. “Everyone deserves a second chance. It’s—” she paused before softly adding, “It’s what _he_ would have done.”

Loki inclined his head, understanding her meaning.

“Uncle Loki!” Morgan called again, bouncing up and down.

“Get over here!” Harley pitched in, hands on Morgan’s shoulders and apparently barely able to contain her.

“You better go,” Pepper told him as she and Thor both laughed at the sight.

Glancing to his brother, Loki had a far-away look and hummed thoughtfully. “She’s much like Fen, is she not?”

Thor’s eyes widened before he quickly opened his mouth, stammering out, “Uh—well—yes. Indeed.”

With that, Loki swept past Pepper, joining Morgan as she formally introduced him to Harley and led him over to the fire-pit.

As the Thunderer let out a sigh and started to walk away, Pepper stopped him. “Thor?” He looked at her curiously as she asked, “Um. Who’s Fen?”

Thor looked grief-stricken, glancing over to where Loki stood. Somberly, he said, “Fenrir.” He fixed his heterochromatic gaze on her again. “Loki’s son.”

Pepper gasped softly. “I guess I didn’t realize he had kids.”

“It’s been some time,” Thor stated, “since he—since _we_ lost them.” He sighed. “This is the first time he’s spoken any of their names in. . .” he looked up, as if he was calculating or trying to remember. Finally, he gave up, shaking his head and saying, “It’s been centuries.”

“I’m sorry,” Pepper told him. Because what else was there to say?

The god offered a small smile. “If your daughter is safe with anyone, Lady Pepper,” he said, nodding toward Morgan. “It is with Loki.”

With that, Thor joined Valkyrie, where she was arguing with Rocket about the best place to spar and if his laser-blaster was appropriate for target practice.

A hand settled on Pepper’s shoulder. She turned and smiled. “Oh, Quill. Hey. What’s up?”

Quill held up what looked like a super high-tech boombox. “Should we get this party started?”

Pepper chuckled softly. “Yes, most definitely,” she replied before showing the man a safe place they could put his music machine. As soon as he set it down, he turned it on and music started blaring, filling the open field. Pepper returned his fist-bump with a laugh, watching him dance his way over to the Guardians, much to Rocket’s chagrin.

Pepper stopped herself from thinking that things were going to be okay. Because she knew they weren’t – it couldn’t be that easy. And whenever someone thinks things are okay, that’s usually when they go very wrong. But for the moment at least, she allowed herself to believe that maybe it wasn’t going to be a total disaster.

As the rest of their group made their way to the field, Pepper waved at them. Then, she joined Rhodey at the BBQ, breathing easy for at least a bit.


	13. A Ghost walks into the Soul World. . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda wants to keep Vision all to herself; & Ava ends up in a strange Realm, where she gets some unexpected help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look – a side-quest! Woohoo! :) Hope y’all like the developments here, and we will return to the main events in the next chapter.
> 
> Also, I am like grossly pleased with myself for this chapter title. XD

Wanda opened her eyes and sprang up to a sitting position on her bed. A hand reached out for her, resting on her forearm. Then she heard a familiar, gentle voice shushing her.

“You’re okay,” he said.

But Wanda was very much _not_ okay. She scooted back on the bed until she slammed against the headboard. Holding her hand out with a pointed finger, she tried to catch her breath and gulped a few times, hoping to make her voice sound stronger than she felt.

“You,” she whispered through gritted teeth. She shook her head, sure she was hallucinating. Tears were stinging her eyes and she blinked fiercely to keep them at bay. That only made things worse, though, because every time she re-opened her eyes, the image in front of her didn’t change. “This is impossible,” Wanda managed to say, with a growl.

“I assure you, it’s not—"

“How dare you be so calm!” Wanda hissed. She narrowed her eyes at this _imposter_. “You’re not here. You’re not real. This—this cannot be.”

She’d stopped letting herself _hope_ long ago, precisely to avoid this feeling. Because if she ever let herself imagine, she knew it would only be exponentially worse when she finally woke up from the dream or snapped free of the illusion. Pretending someone was back just to lose them all over again was much worse than just admitting you lost them in the first place.

But despite how she tried to logic herself through whatever the hell was happening, she couldn’t stop seeing the image in front of her and she couldn’t deny the emotions that came as a result.

So, the next thing Wanda knew, she was sobbing. Her body shook, wracked with renewed grief. Then, arms—strong and warm and familiar and feeling so very alive—were wrapped around her, squeezing her until her body was still. And then hands were stroking her back, with fingers carding through her hair. That calm voice, the one that she had missed so dearly and only ever heard in her dreams or old recordings of JARVIS, was whispering in her ear: “It’s all right. I’m here now.”

And those words pulled Wanda from her stupor. She sniffled as she leaned away, forcing the water from her eyes so she could see clearly.

“How?” she asked, because that was the only logical thing she could force out at the moment – and because she needed to know.

He smiled, and glanced down as he chuckled fondly. When he looked back up at her, his eyes were just as bright as they’d always been. “Morgan and Shuri,” he told her.

Wanda looked him up and down with suspicion, focusing her powers in the hopes that if this was anything other than reality—a lie, trick, illusion, hallucination, mental breakdown, etc.—then maybe she’d be able to tell. But when she looked at Vision, everything felt perfectly normal and _real_. Wanda let out a small gasp. Then she inhaled sharply. “Viz, it’s really you?”

With a nod, he confirmed, “It’s really me.”

Vision let out an “Oof!” as Wanda threw her arms around him and curled herself against him in a hug. She squeezed as hard as humanly possible, and then some. Hugging her back, Vision laughed in her ear and a smile spread across the woman’s face. She released him, bursting into a relieved, sort of crazed sounding laughter.

“I missed you,” Wanda croaked. Her lip trembled, and she bit it to keep from crying again. “You were _gone_.”

“I’m back,” was all Vision had to say to that.

Wanda surged forward and kissed him before nuzzling into his neck and just holding him close again. The weight of all the years Wanda had been alone fell away and it was like no time had passed at all.

“I sort of disappeared, from Morgan and Shuri,” Vision said after a few minutes, sounding guilty.

With a sigh, Wanda leaned back against the headboard of her bed. “I suppose the others deserve to know you’re alive,” she admitted. But then she grabbed Vision’s arm, tugging him closer and directing him to wrap his arm around her shoulder. He abided, settling in alongside her. Wanda tilted her head down, leaning against Vision’s chest. “But the others can wait.”

Vision didn’t answer, but he must have agreed because he didn’t move, either. They stayed silent, curled up on the bed and, at least for now, just content to be together again.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Ava recognized the Quantum Realm immediately. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest at the thought that maybe she was trapped there. But then things started to shift around her. She felt something tugging at her and momentarily panicked.

It was like before, when her matter used to rip apart and then sew itself back together again. But she was wearing the bracelets made by the Avengers; she _should_ be fine.

Then again, she was in the Quantum Realm, so maybe rules didn’t really apply.

Ava’s breath caught in her throat and she felt like she was choking. Something tugged at her again, pulling her apart at the seams. Things suddenly became too bright. Everything disappeared into a blur of blinding white light.

For a moment, Ava Starr was nothing – and she was everything, all at once.

Then, the brightness faded to something more subdued, like the world was dull and muted. She tried to breathe but found her lungs filling with water – which was a surprise.

Flailing, she did everything she could to propel herself in a general _upward_ direction. Finally, with a roaring headache and spots in front of her eyes from a lack of oxygen, Ava surfaced from underwater. She gasped, pulling in air and beginning to tread water as she took in the sights around her.

Gone was the Quantum Realm and instead, Ava found herself in the middle of a never-ending ocean, with waters like a reflecting pool. The sky above was a muted, gray with splashes of orange. In fact, when she looked around, everything had kind of an orangey hue to it. As Ava glanced around, she was filled with a new sense of fear. Because she not only had no idea where she was, but she also couldn’t see anything for what appeared to be _miles_ : No landmarks, no people, nothing at all.

Without any other options, and to avoid panicking, Ava started to swim. She had no idea where she was going, except _forward_ and that seemed like as good an option as anything else she had to choose from (which was precisely nothing).

Hours seemed to pass. Ava was panting and her limbs were ready to give out. She was exhausted, her eyes blurring and trying to close, causing her head to slip underwater now and then. Spluttering, she forced herself back to the surface, trying to gain some kind of bearings or come up with a plan. Turning herself slightly in the water, Ava all but squealed at the sight of an outcropping of rocks.

With renewed energy, the girl forced herself to swim the remaining distance – it was impossible to say whether it was miles or a few hundred yards or mere _feet_ – and when she was close enough, she grabbed onto the rocks. She pulled herself up, to sit on an overhanging rock with her legs dangling in the water. Resting her head on the rocks beside her, Ava closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath. Tried to collect her thoughts. Tried to figure out what the hell she was going to do.

“Hey!” someone shouted. And Ava didn’t even respond at first, because she was certain she’d started hallucinating. Then, the voice called out to her again and Ava managed to lift her head. Squinting, because her eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the odd color and lighting of wherever she was, she could just barely make out the figure of a woman standing on another group of rocks some distance away.

Somewhat lazily, Ava waved an arm in acknowledgement. She dropped her head to rest on her arm along the rocks again, because it was just too much effort to hold her head up. And then she heard a splash. Some amount of time ticked by – it had all become irrelevant by that point – and then someone was patting Ava’s leg.

“Hey, you.” The woman prodded Ava gently, rousing her from what she was certain was about to be an exhaustion-induced coma. When Ava looked up, the woman was in the water at her feet and looking at her with curiosity. “Where’d you come from?”

Ava swallowed, her tongue thick and dry. “I dunno,” she murmured. She jerked her head in a random direction, not even sure if it was where she had stated. “I’ve been swimming for. . .” but her voice trailed off, because she had no idea how long she’d been there and on the move and what even was life right now? Finally, she just shook her head dejectedly.

The woman seemed to understand, though, giving a singular nod. “That happens,” she said. “This is a place where people tend to get,” she paused before saying, “stuck.”

Ava groaned and forced herself to sit up. Because even if this was a mirage or something, then maybe at least the hallucination could be helpful. “D’you know how I can get outta here?”

The woman watched her for a moment, green eyes shining even in the orangey light. Finally, she smirked. “The only way out, is through,” she stated, her raspy, jazz singer-eqsue voice calm and soft.

“. . . the fuck?” Ava didn’t even care to hide her incredulity. She was too tired and confused to try figuring out _riddles_.

But the woman only laughed. “Follow me,” she said, paddling in the water to back up.

Ava slowly slid down from the rock, immersing herself again in the lukewarm depths. She looked down briefly, able to see herself as clearly as if she were looking in a mirror. She looked like shit – exhausted and worn.

“Word of warning?” The woman’s voice drew Ava’s attention again, making her look into those shimmering green eyes. “Don’t stop till you breach the surface.” Then, without further explanation, the woman was diving underwater.

Ava hesitated for all of a second, immediately aware of the fact that she has no alternatives. So, she followed, diving under and using great force to move the water with her arms, kicking with her legs, as she swam down.

The woman was no longer in view, and Ava was just remembering her words of “don’t stop.” So, deeper and deeper she swam, until Ava was certain her lungs were going to burst, sure that she’d just followed a literal siren to her own watery grave, or that maybe there had never been anyone in the first place. Finally, with her chest tight and her head throbbing and everything burning, Ava breeched the surface and sucked in a gasping, heaving breath of air.

She quickly discovered that she was, impossibly, in a shallow part of the water. She tried to stand, but her legs were too weak from so much swimming and she felt kind of sick from the lack of oxygen. So instead, she just threw herself down in an attempt to reach the shore, which was now miraculously just a few feet away.

“Up we go,” a voice said softly, pulling Ava up and out of the water with a grunt.

Ava continued breathing heavily, sitting on her ass on the shoreline, like a day at the fucking beach. Unlike the beach, though, this water was perfectly, eerily still. It doesn’t lap at Ava’s legs. There are no waves and the water doesn’t make a sound.

Ava looked up at the woman standing beside her, soaking wet in a black jumpsuit. Her skin was pale and her hair, which was almost a burgundy color, was pulled back into a braid, flat against her head from the water. “What is this place?” Ava asked.

The woman moved in front of Ava, squatted down, resting her elbows on her knees, and looked directly into Ava’s eyes. “This might be hard for you to understand, but—”

“Is this the Quantum Realm?” Ava asked, interrupting whatever the woman was about to say.

“No,” was the woman’s quick response. Her green eyes flashed with an odd expression and she shook her head before standing up straight again. She offered her hand, which Ava took, finally standing up. “Why did you ask if this was the Quantum Realm?”

Ava bit her lip. “Well, I was muckin’ about with some things I really ought not have been messing with – shit I don’t fully understand, ya know? And I may have accidentally gotten myself sucked through some sort of space-time vacuum, I think?” Ava shrugged. “At least, that’s the best I could probably come up with to understand or explain it. And I mean, I _was_ in the Quantum realm, for, like, a hot minute. Then suddenly I wasn’t, and I found myself in those waters where I spent, like, a fucking eternity.”

“And then I found you,” the stranger supplied. Ava nodded. The woman chewed on the inside of her cheek, looking at Ava thoughtfully. Finally, she sighed. “This isn’t a realm at all, exactly. It’s more like. . .” she paused, tapping her chin with her index finger. “It’s like an off-shoot of the Quantum realm. And all other realms, probably.”

Ava raised a brow. “What does that mean?”

Throwing her arms out to her sides, the woman said, “This is an in-between place. It exists between – or beyond? – space _and_ time.” She chuckled darkly. “Trust me. I’m pretty sure I’ve been here for years, although I don’t know how many. Sometimes it feels like I just got here yesterday, and other times it feels like it’s been _centuries_.” She swiped at a strand of hair that had fallen out of the braid. Now that it was drying, Ava could see that the hair wasn’t as dark as she’d thought, looking more rust-colored.

“This place is a total cluster-fuck,” the woman continued. She exhaled and shrugged. “They call it the Soul World.”

“’They?’” Ava repeated.

The female nodded. Then, she frowned and furrowed her brows, shaking her head, before nodding again. “You know, the ominous, omnipotent, omniscient ‘they.’ Or if you want it could be us, you, them, others – whatever.” She waved a hand dismissively.

“Well,” Ava began, “can you help me get out of here?”

The woman let out a sharp, throaty laugh. In response to Ava’s frosty glare, she folded her arms over her chest. “This isn’t the kind of place you get out of, kid. Once you’re here, you’re stuck.”

Ava scoffed. “Well, that’s unacceptable. I-I can’t be _stuck_ here!”

The other simply shrugged. Ava realized the woman looked tired. Maybe this place sucked the life out of you until there was nothing left. That did not bode well for anyone.

They were silent for a minute. Then, the stranger started walking away.

“Hey!” Ava called, stopping the woman in her retreat. Ava took a few slow steps, her legs still feeling like they’d been dipped in cement, sidling up next to the woman. “Where are you going?”

The woman pointed straight in front of her before she started walking again. Ava walked alongside her, following her away from the water’s edge, over a small dune that took them off the weird-ass beach, and onto a dirt path. They walked for a while without a word, but then Ava felt the woman’s eyes on her from the side.

“Why are you following me?” she asked, coming to a stop.

Ava snorted. “Where else would I go?”

The woman shrugged, as if that was a perfectly valid argument, and then just kept walking. Ava hurried forward to catch up again. “I’m Ava,” she introduced herself. “What are you called?”

The woman came to a halt again, making Ava stutter-step not to overshoot her. With a grin, the woman said, “I’ve been ‘called’ many names.”

Ava frowned. “Is this the bit where you tell me this is actually hell and you’re the devil?”

With a laugh, the woman shook her head. Then she stretched out her hand, “Here, people call me Ali.”

They shook hands and Ava smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Ali. Although, I wish it were under better circumstances.” She grimaced as she glanced around.

Ali chuckled quietly. “You kind of get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to it,” Ava snapped, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at Ali. “I want to get back to the _real_ world.”

There was something harsh in Ali’s gaze, but it quickly shifted to a softer expression. “Yeah, I understand. But that’s not exactly an option. Once your soul is relegated to this World, you don’t leave.”

“No!” Ava growled, stomping her foot for emphasis. She knew it was petulant, but she didn’t care. Ali’s eyes were wide and pitying, but Ava merely groaned in exasperation. “See, the thing is, I wasn’t ‘relegated’ to this world. I don’t belong here—”

“Nobody ever thinks they do,” Ali interrupted.

Ava rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. I’m really not supposed to be here! It was an accident.” Getting an idea, she reached into her pocket and pulled the particle accelerator out, holding it in her palm to show Ali. “See? This device malfunctioned and mixed with Quantum particles and this other element, called Pym Particles, and somehow it sent me here, and—"

Ali held up a hand. “Did you say Pym?”

When Ava nodded, Ali narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “As in, the stuff Ant-Man uses to do his weird ant shit?”

“Yeah, exactly!” Ava exclaimed with enthusiasm.

Ali bit her lip. “Do you actually _know_ Scott?”

“Scott Lang? Of course.” Ava shrugged. “Why? Do you know ‘im? Or the Avengers?”

Ali snorted and tilted her head back to look up at the expanse of orange above them. “Um, let’s see. Do I know the Avengers?” She drawled the words out. Finally, with a click of her tongue, she said, “Yeah, you could say that.”

Ava furrowed her brow. “What does that mean?”

“Like I said, I’ve been here for a while. So I can’t guarantee I know the _current_ Avengers. But,” Ali paused her explanation to let out a sigh. “I know the founding members,” she finished.

“You do? How?” Ava cocked her head to the side questioningly.

Placing her hands on her hips, Ali gave a lopsided grin. “Because I was one of them.”

There was a moment of silence between the two. Ava stepped back, looking the woman up and down more carefully. Admittedly, there was something familiar about her. She just couldn’t quite get her brain to work enough to place it – Ava wasn’t dumb by any means but, unlike many of the others she worked with, she wasn’t exactly a genius and she didn’t have an eidetic memory.

“Are you a current Avenger?” Ali asked, an amused tone in her voice.

Ava nodded. Then, she introduced herself again, this time using her code-name. “They call me Ghost.”

Surprisingly, Ali snickered. “So, Ghost walks into the Soul World. . .” she said dramatically. Ava allowed a quiet laugh to escape. Shaking her head, Ali chuckled. “Seriously, there _has_ to be a joke somewhere about that.” Then, Ali placed a hand on her chest and leaned forward, still seeming very theatric. “Well, maybe you’ve heard of me. Back in the day, they called me Black Widow.”

Ava felt her jaw drop. She tried to talk, but only managed to stutter out nonsense syllables: “But –you were—and the – now you’re –”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Ali— _Black Widow_ , said with a smirk. She extended her hand, which Ava quickly grabbed to shake for a second time, but _for real_ this time. “Natalia Alianova Romanov,” Black Widow said. “Probably Natasha Romanoff, to most of the people you know. Or just Nat.”

“This is insane,” Ava whispered, mostly to herself. “You’re dead.”

Dryly, Nat said, “Joy of joys, I ended up here.” Natasha swept her arms out to the side in a grand gesture. With a sympathetic look, she waved a hand toward Ava. “And now you’re here, too. Ergo. . .” she let her voice trail off, and was instantly met with an offended gasp by Ava.

“Except I’m not dead!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Sure about that?”

There was only a miniscule pause before Ava nodded. “I am not dead,” she repeated, more firmly. She sighed. “Look, when I was young, I had a sort of accident. I have quantum particles in my cells – that’s why I’m called Ghost, really.”

Nat folded her arms over her chest. “Like, you can walk through walls?”

With a nod, Ava held up Pym’s device again. “This has both quantum and Pym particles in it, but it’s somewhat broken. I think maybe because of my makeup, when this thing malfunctioned, it ended up dropping me here.” The girl dropped her arms to her sides and shook her head dejectedly. “But I’m not supposed to be here. And I have to find a way to get back, because I don’t know if I caused any problems when I left and I bloody well don’t want anyone followin’ after me.” With pleading eyes, Ava implored the former Avenger, “Just, I _need_ to get back. I’m begging you to help me find a way.”

For a moment, Nat stared at her. There was an intensity there and Ava realized why Black Widow had been known for being so intimidating. Then, Natasha inhaled sharply and puckered her lips. “I don’t know if it’s possible, but I guess if you could get here, maybe there’s a way to get you back.”

Hearing her agree to help, even in the smallest way, Ava was overjoyed and flung herself forward to wrap Natasha in a hug.

“Whoa,” Nat mumbled in surprise. She reached one arm up and patted Ava on the back, chuckling in her ear.

“Sorry,” Ava muttered as she pulled away.

“’s fine,” Natasha told her easily. Then, with a grin, she said, “Come with me. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Lead on!” Ava grinned back, feeling renewed hope that maybe she actually would get out of this literal no-man’s-land.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

The pair made their way along the path in relative silence. Ava considered asking Natasha something, to try making conversation. But she’d heard enough about Black Widow to know that Nat probably wouldn’t appreciate questions about her past. And talking about the Avengers, past or present, might be painful for the woman. So instead, Ava just kept her mouth shut.

They climbed up a sand dune and when they reached the top, Ava felt her breath catch in her throat.

Because so far, the place—planet? Realm? Whatever—had been completely deserted, with no sights or sounds beyond Ava, Nat, and the barren space around them as far as the eye could see. But once they reached the crest of the dune, Ava looked down and saw something akin to a _village_ , full of people.

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

Natasha started to descend the hill and Ava hurried to follow her, but with much less grace or stealth as she slipped in the sand. They found a paved walkway and Ava stayed close to Nat, all but clinging to the sleeve of the red-head’s jumper, out of fear of losing her in the bustling crowd. It seemed like they were in some kind of marketplace, with shops set up and people were even eating and drinking.

“There are so many people here,” Ava commented after they’d been walking for a bit.

Natasha shrugged. “This place is something of a catch-all.”

Ava nodded absently, taking note of the many different kinds of beings and _creatures_ that were there. She recognized some of them as other species – a few Skrulls, some that she figured were Centaurians (based on how Quill talked about Yondu), plus several others she couldn’t name – and of course there were countless humans.

“Here we are,” Natasha announced, stopping in front of a building. It was noticeably larger than the neighboring storefronts. Ava looked up and saw a sign hanging above the door with the word **INN** scrawled across it. Her companion cleared her throat and Ava saw that Nat was holding the door open for her.

“Thanks,” Ava muttered before crossing the threshold. It was significantly quieter inside and it had a homey feel to it, almost like something out of Middle-Earth. As Ava glanced around, she couldn’t help but chuckle. “Got any Hobbits staying here?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow before snorting. “Oh good, they got another nerd to join the ranks.”

“Natalia!” A stern voice shouted from behind them, making Ava jump. Natasha simply rolled her eyes and turned around. “Nice of you to finally show up.”

Ava whirled around to face the woman who was approaching them. And it made the girl feel light-headed.

“Lay off, Gamora,” Natasha retorted teasingly. She jammed her thumb toward Ava. “I went fishing.” As the green-skinned being stopped a few feet from them, planting her hands on her hips, Natasha introduced her. “Gamora, this is Ava.”

Gamora rolled her eyes. “Great,” she grumbled. “Another body to house. And let me guess: This one can’t pay, either?” The Zehoberei woman made her way across the lobby of the inn, shaking her head as she went behind the counter. “You have to stop this, Ali.”

Muttering to herself in an alien language, Gamora started flipping through a book on the counter—what Ava assumed to be a register of some sort for guests of the hotel. With a sigh, Gamora looked up and sighed before saying, “We can probably find room for her for a day or two. But that’s it.”

With a chuckle, Natasha jerked her head, indicating for Ava to follow her. They stopped at the check-in desk, opposite Gamora. Nat leaned forward to rest her elbows on the counter. “She’s not a _guest_ , dumbass.”

Gamora glared, obviously not amused by the playful insult. But Nat wasn’t deterred. “And she doesn’t need us to do her any favors.”

With a click of her tongue, Gamora slammed the registration book closed. “Well, that would be a first.” Then she rested her palms on the desk and leaned forward, focusing her dark eyes on Ava. “So, why _did_ Ali bring you here?”

Ava gulped under the heated stare. A million thoughts were racing through her mind. But all she could manage to say (quite lamely) was, “You’re her.”

Gamora leaned back, looking confused. Her gaze flicked from Ava to Nat and back. Finally, she scoffed and looked at Natasha expectantly.

“Ava ended up here on accident—”

“You know that doesn’t happen,” Gamora interrupted with a growl.

But Natasha grinned like the cat that caught the canary. “Ava is an Avenger.”

A pained expression swept across Gamora’s face for a brief moment, but it was quickly replaced by a cool, neutral face. She leveled that blank look at Natasha. “You say that like it means something.”

“It does,” Natasha replied, her voice just as cool as the look on Gamora’s face. Ava could feel the tension in the air. She remembered that both women had been assassins in their former lives and standing next to them felt a bit like standing in a powder keg.

“Why would it matter?” Gamora spat. “She’s _here_ , so who cares who she was associated with?”

Ava let out a loud sigh that implied way more confidence than she actually felt. “I _am_ actually in the room.” When the women looked at her, she rolled her eyes. “You don’t hafta talk about me like I’m not here.”

There was a momentary pause and then Natasha barked out a laugh and placed a hand on Ava’s shoulder. Ava smiled, only slightly nervously, at Natasha before looking to Gamora. She was flooded with relief to see that Gamora was half-smiling back at her.

“So, _Ghost_ ,” Natasha said, grinning as she emphasized Ava’s heroic moniker, “wound up in the Soul World—”

Gamora cut the other off with a stifled laugh. “That sounds like a bad joke.”

“I can see why you two are friends,” Ava mused, glancing between them.

Nat chuckled and opened her mouth to continue but then nodded toward Ava in deference. “You explain it.” At Ava’s confused look, Natasha exhaled. “How you got here. Or how you think you did.” She gestured toward Gamora. “Tell her what you told me.”

Inhaling deeply, Ava met Gamora’s expectant stare. “Quick and dirty version: I’m made up of Quantum cells, a device employing Quantum and Pym particles malfunctioned, I made a very wrong turn in the Quantum Realm, and somehow it dropped me here.”

Gamora nodded along as Ava spoke, giving her a sympathetic look when she finished. Then Natasha straightened up with a glint in her eyes. “We’re gonna find a way for Ava to get the hell out of here.”

Gamora sighed, swiping her dark hair away from her face. “That’s a nice dream, for both of you. But—”

Nat held up a hand. “No ‘buts,’ buzzkill. Ava’s getting out of here.” Ava felt a swell of appreciation at Natasha’s insistence, her confidence seeming contagious. Then, before Gamora could argue, Nat slapped her hand on the counter in a kind of triumphant gesture. “And when she leaves, _we’re_ going with her.”

“What?!” Ava and Gamora exclaimed at the same time. Nat looked back and forth between them, beaming in spite of Ava’s confusion and Gamora’s disbelieving scowl.

“There’s no way out, Natalia,” Gamora proclaimed, slowly as if she were talking to a child. “Even if Ava here does somehow, miraculously, find a way to leave, it would only be because of her unique makeup and situation.” Shaking her head despondently, Gamora inhaled sharply as she looked at Ava. “I hope you can get out of here, and if you think of something I can do to help, let me know. But,” she paused to look at Natasha, “this would be a one-off and I don’t see how it involves us.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Because you lack vision,” she deadpanned. “Look, Ava basically _is_ a quantum machine. If she can get herself out of here, how hard would it be for us to just hitch a ride?”

“Impossibly hard, Ali!” Gamora hissed. “There’s no way out and you should just forget it.” With a scoff, the green-skinned woman added, “Besides, even if we _tried_ , what if something goes wrong?”

Natasha groaned, stomping away from the desk. “If there’s even a remote chance we could get out of here, we should try it!” Pausing for a moment to let the intensity roll away, Natasha swiped hair out of her face and leveled Gamora with a soft but stern look. “What are you so afraid of, Gamora?”

“I’m not afraid, Romanov,” Gamora growled, her voice low and heated. “But I don’t see the point in taking needless risks.”

That was the moment Ava decided to butt in. She cleared her throat and raised a hand, tentatively stepping forward to position herself between the two women. “Um, I don’t want to overstep, and it’s not like I know what I’m talkin’ about, like, _at all_. But. . .” she stopped for a moment, giving the others a chance to stop her. They both just looked at her in anticipation so she took a deep breath before saying, “It’s not like you really have much of a life here. So, I mean, if there were some chance you could get out of here, isn’t that worth whatever risks may come?” She gave them both a sad little smile as she shrugged. “What’ve you really got to lose?”

Natasha stepped forward and, quietly, she asked, “Gamora, you could see your sister again. And Quill. Is there any risk that’s not worth taking for _that_?”

Outrage flashed across Gamora’s face and she snarled. But it was quickly replaced by profound grief, with tears welling up in the rims of the alien’s dark eyes.

She looked to Ava. “You really believe you can get out of here?” Gamora asked in a tight voice.

“I do.” And as Ava said it, she found that she actually believed it. Because she _had_ to. Not getting home was simply not an option.

After staring her down for a moment, Gamora finally gave a singular nod. “All right. If you want to try getting back to the Earth we knew, I won’t stop you. I’ll even help you, if possible.” Pinching the bridge of her nose and chuckling darkly, Gamora sighed. “And if you do get out of here, I will even risk ripping my soul and body to shreds on the 0.1% chance that whatever you do actually works.”

“Yes!” Natasha exclaimed, punching the air.

Gamora’s eyes widened as she looked at her friend. “There’s a very good chance this could kill or, at the very least, maim us, and you’re _excited_?”

Nat shrugged. “At least it’ll be a change of pace!”

At that, both women laughed. And Ava found herself laughing with them, feeling thrilled not only about getting out of this weird misadventure but also at this new prospect of what she might be able to bring back with her. She just hoped there really was a chance and that it would work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to continue updating regularly, but might be a bit slower with Christmas & New Year's - plus, I have an evil Statistics class that is kicking my ass so everything depends if I survive that!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading & commenting. I adore you people!


	14. Escape pods don't have landing gear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun times at the BBQ are cut short when things take a turn for the dramatic; Loki tries his hand at teamwork; Quill goes into shock (maybe he needs a blanket - Sherlock, anyone?); Wanda decides to reveal to the others that Vision is back; An unexpected guest arrives (and shatters the fourth wall – author regrets nothing); and Carol is forced to confront her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haiiiiiiiii! Been a minute, y’all. Life has been hectic since the holidays & I apologize for the delay. I am definitely still here and trying to post. But man, there need to be more hours in the day! Due to the delay, I made this chapter nice and long for ya (plus, there was no good place to cut it off without having a cliffhanger and that would have just been mean). Enjoy!

The shot rang out through the air, ripping a tree trunk clean in half and sending leaves and dirt flying. Birds and other wild animals that were gathered in the forested area scattered, taking flight or ducking for cover to escape the blast that came shortly after the weapon had been fired. There was a loud boom of an explosion, followed by a bush igniting.

Rocket cackled with dark joy. He rested the laser-blaster on his shoulder and turned to the group in the field with him. “Now that,” he jerked his head toward the blaze several hundred yards away, “is a thing of beauty.” He put two digits to his mouth and puckered, like a chef’s kiss.

Down the way, near the burning bush, Bruce brandished a fire extinguisher to put out the small brush fire before it could cause any major damage. Carol had been standing next to him and started glowing before shooting forward, flying across the field and closing the distance between herself and the others. She halted right in front of Rocket and her own ember glow faded away.

Clint arched his brow at the Captain. “Well, where’d the beam land? How many points did he get?”

Carol threw her hands in the air in an overly-exaggerated shrug. “No idea.” She scratched her temple. “He, uh, kind of obliterated the target board.”

Rocket let out a whoop, jumping up to high-five Groot, who begrudgingly obliged. But Clint gasped and pointed accusatorily at the rodent. “Then it doesn’t count and he has to forfeit!”

“No way, Robin Hood!” Rocket snarled, stomping up to the archer. With a feral grin, he crossed his arms over his chest. “If I destroyed the target then that means I get all the points and win by default.”

“Those aren’t the rules!” Clint exclaimed.

“Potato, Avocado,” Rocket grumbled with a dismissive wave.

“That’s not how the saying goes at all,” Carol interjected to no one in particular.

Rocket put his paws on his hips and looked up at Clint with a cocky grin. “There’s no rule saying I’m wrong.”

Clint groaned exasperatedly. “Nobody ever thought we needed to specify something like that.”

“Well, whose fault was that?” Rocket’s tone was snide and he finished by blowing a raspberry.

Waving his arms in the air, Clint growled as he whirled around to the others. “Someone back me up on this!”

Valkyrie sauntered forward, causing Clint to grin and nod with triumph. But his glee at being backed up by the Asgardian quickly faded when she condescendingly placed one hand on his shoulder and patted his cheek with the other. “Next time, perhaps you’ll draft a better rule book.”

As Val snaked around the archer to fist-bump Rocket, Scott stepped up and offered Hawkeye a pitying look. “Here,” he said, placing a fingertip on Clint’s agape jaw. “Let me close that for ya.”

Clint swatted at Scott’s hand. “Get off me, weirdo!” As he stomped away, he mumbled, “Cheating raccoons from outer-fucking-space.”

Rocket, Val, Carol, and the others who had been part of the target game followed Clint back to where the rest of the group was congregated closer to the grills. The food was almost ready and everyone was either milling about or sitting and chatting. The song that was playing on the boombox ended, leaving Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” to fade into the clearing.

As the synth started on the next song, Quill squawked with excitement and climbed up on top of one of the picnic tables. He held his hand up in front of his face with an invisible microphone as he dramatically started belting along with Cher: “Do you believe in li-ife after loooooooooove? I can feel somethin’ inside meh say, I really don’t think you’re strong enough. Ooh! Do you beliiiiiieeeeeve in li-ife after—”

The music clicked off suddenly, effectively ending Quill’s caterwauling.

“Aw, c’mon! I was just gettin’ into the _zone_ ,” Quill whined.

“Why do you think I turned it off?” Nebula groused. She cocked her hip to the side and placed a hand on it, glaring from where she stood next to the boom-box.

Quill hopped off the table, pointing a finger at Nebula. “Hey! I missed out on _decades_ of music. Don’t you dare try to take it from me now.” He straightened his t-shirt, which depicted cartoon versions of many of the Avengers, while the Luphomoid merely rolled her eyes. Quill made his way over, bumping his fellow Guardian on the shoulder playfully. She let out an exaggerated but good-natured groan.

“After we eat,” Quill proclaimed, speaking loudly enough that everyone could hear, “we’re definitely doing some karaoke!”

At that, Happy turned to Peter with an exasperated sigh. “Remind me, _why_ did you give Quill a Cher album for his birthday?”

“Hey, be thankful – I almost gave him an Enya CD!” Peter argued in his defense.

Happy narrowed his eyes. “And those were really your only choices?” Then he sighed, letting his shoulders sag in defeat. “It was a no-win situation.”

May punched her fiancé in the arm playfully. “I happen to like Cher _and_ Enya!”

Happy held his hands up in defense—or maybe surrender—and Peter chuckled softly. They, along with the rest of the gang, chatted and joked around for a few more minutes before they were interrupted by the sound of metal objects clanging together.

Rhodey lifted the tongs from the hood of the barbecue, where he’d just been banging them as a makeshift dinner bell. Raising the tongs above his head and waving them in the air, he shouted, “FOOD’S READY!”

The Avengers and company descended upon the BBQs and their grill-masters like vultures to wounded prey. It was almost anarchic. Everyone grabbed paper plates and plastic silverware before shouting to those at the grill about whether they wanted hamburgers or hot dogs and how many and with a bun or without and yes to cheese and if there were condiments and there better be napkins and everyone needed to stop shoving. . .

Loki stood back from the gaggle, observing the free entertainment.

“You look way too amused,” Strange noted as he sidled up next to the Trickster. “Should I be worried?” he asked, arching a brow wryly.

Loki looked at him from his peripheral, a sly smile spreading across his face. Before he could come up with some witty response, a new source of commotion caught his attention. Apparently Pepper was attempting to organize everyone into some semblance of a line. The effort was valiant, but to no avail. Eventually, the woman gave up, throwing her hands in the air and letting the madness ensue.

“This is pandemonium,” Strange muttered.

“I know,” Loki replied, almost giddily. Turning to face the Sorcerer with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes, he added, “Isn’t it glorious?”

Strange gave him an admonishing look that only managed to remain serious for a few seconds. Then he chuckled softly. “Of course you would think that.” He rolled his eyes, but his tone was warm and undeniably fond, so Loki couldn’t help but smile in response.

They stood next to each other in silence. Loki turned back to the crowd before him, which was starting to settle down a bit as everyone collected their food and found places to sit. Strange sniffed and shifted on his feet somewhat nervously. After a moment, an annoyed huff came from behind them. They both turned to face Wong, who was watching them with his arms crossed, a raised eyebrow, and an expression that said he was not amused.

“What?” Strange asked, a challenge in his voice.

Wong narrowed his eyes at the Sorcerer before finally dropping his arms to his sides and throwing his head back. “You two are exhausting,” he muttered, shaking his head. Then, he stalked away toward the food.

There was a soft fluttering noise, followed by something touching Loki’s leg. He looked down to see the Cloak tapping at his calf. He chuckled and looked to Strange, preparing some kind of quip about the garment’s forwardness. But the moment was interrupted by Thor calling his name.

The greeting offered only a minor warning for Thor to come galumphing over and wrapping an arm around Loki’s shoulders. “Brother!” Thor gestured toward the BBQ and started tugging Loki in that direction. “Come, partake in a grilled burger!”

“Or,” a gruff voice began from lower, and Loki rolled his eyes as he readied himself whatever Rocket was going to say. “Maybe Loki would prefer a _wiener_.”

Rocket’s cackle was abruptly cut off when the Cloak of Levitation wrapped itself around the raccoon’s face, apparently intent on smothering him. He let loose a series of muffled curses as he wrestled with the fabric. The Cloak quickly extricated itself from Strange, so as not to knock its master off-balance, and although it loosened itself from Rocket’s mouth so he could breathe, it didn’t completely let up its assault on the rodent. Thor guffawed as his small friend struggled, which only caused Rocket’s ire to increase.

“Don’t laugh!” He growled, pawing at the Cloak. “Get this—get _off_ of me!” Rocket spun in a circle, flapping his arms and swearing profusely.

Strange snorted and looked away, trying to stifle his laughter and compose himself. Finally, he gave a whistle and jerked his head. “Come on, then.”

Immediately, the Cloak relinquished its hold on Rocket and settled back on Strange’s shoulders. Rocket was panting, and glared up at the doctor. “Keep that _cape_ of yours on a leash,” he said with a snarl.

Strange smirked back at him and straightened the collar of the Cloak of Levitation – which, if it was possible for apparel to look smug, the Cloak sure as hell managed.

Loki gave a nod of approval toward the garment, smiling conspiratorially when he caught Strange’s eye. And if his heart skipped a beat or seven when Strange winked at him before walking off to the food, well, nobody had to know that.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

The momentary chaos had been sated once everyone had their food and drinks. They’d all settled into comfortable spots around the field – be it at one of the picnic tables, blankets spread out on the dirt, or just a nice spot in the grass amidst wildflowers. Quill had somehow managed to sneak over to his boombox and turn it back on without Nebula noticing. He had Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now” playing. . . On repeat. Idle chit-chat and laughter abounded. It was a truly relaxing, enjoyable time.

So, of course, it would be the exact moment that the proverbial shit hit the fan.

Peter Parker was the first to become aware that something was wrong. His Spider Senses flared, internal alarms going off at full-power. He jumped to his feet, dropping his fourth hot dog and leaving May, Happy, and Carol still sitting on the ground looking stunned.

Carol watched Peter scan the area with wide eyes for a few seconds before she, too, was standing. “What is it?” she asked.

Peter shook his head. “I don’t know. But something’s wrong.”

“Is it your Peter Tingle?” May asked with concern as she and Happy stood up.

Groaning inwardly but otherwise choosing to ignore his aunt’s pet name for his Senses, Peter tapped his ear-piece. “EDITH, are you picking up on anything?”

“ _Actually, Peter, I_ am _detecting the presence of an anomaly,_ ” EDITH replied quickly.

“An anomaly?” Pete repeated, giving Carol a concerned look. “What kind of anomaly?”

“ _Something has entered the atmosphere and appears to be hurtling toward the Earth at a rapid speed_ ,” EDITH answered far too casually.

Carol looked up and focused her superhuman vision on the sky. She smacked Pete on the shoulder. “There, “ she said urgently, pointing to the distant object that was steadily growing closer.

“What is that thing?” Peter asked, his voice rising in pitch from panic.

Carol didn’t answer. Instead, she tapped her arm-band, making her clothes morph from casual-wear to her Captain Marvel suit. The other Avengers, having noticed the kerfuffle and that Carol was no longer just a civilian, quickly reacted by getting up and readying themselves for whatever the hell was about to happen.

Sam jogged over to Carol and Peter. “What’s happening?”

Peter flailed his arms in the air, gesturing toward the object in the sky. Sam’s eyes widened. “What in hell is _that_?”

“Best guess?” Quill stated as he stepped up next to Sam. He was shrugging his leather jacket on his shoulders and tucking a blaster into the holster of the belt he’d just clipped around his waist. “That’s a space-craft.” His helmet folded down, covering his face.

“Seriously?” Sam groaned.

Carol put a placating hand on Sam’s chest. “Try to minimize damage on the ground and make sure all non-enhanceds are nowhere near here.”

“Oh-kay,” Sam replied slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Wait. What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna stop that thing. Or at least try to slow it down.”

“Captain Marvel, that is suicide,” T’Challa told her admonishingly.

She waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry so much, Black Panther.” Turning back to Sam, she gave a smug smile. “I’ve got this.” With that, Carol rocketed into the air, becoming nothing more than a surge of orange in the sky.

Peter let out a concerned squeak. “Sam! She’s gonna get herself killed!”

“She said she’s got it,” Sam argued, although he didn’t sound too convinced.

There was an exasperated sigh and then Loki pushed his way past Thor, Valkyrie, and the others. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles before shaking his hands out, which were beginning to glow green. “She’s got that,” he nodded toward the craft that Carol was flying toward. “I’ll get _her_.” He placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, patting it reassuringly before looking looked at Sam. “Do as the Kree said, Two-Point-Oh. Get everyone out of here.” Then, he disappeared in a shimmer of emerald light.

Sam swore under his breath before whirling around to face some of the others. “Doctor Strange,” he called out.

“Yes?” Strange said, making Sam jump because he hadn’t realized that the doctor was right beside him. His brows were furrowed in concern and he was watching the sky where orange and green were intermingling. But then he tore his eyes away to look at Sam properly.

“Get some of your mandala shield things going,” Sam commanded. “Have Wong help,” he suggested. Strange nodded and started walking away with Wong behind him, both of them tracing patterns in the air, conjuring the Shield of the Seraphim to place a protective dome over the field **.**

“The rest of you!” Sam hollered out to the group of Avengers and family members. “Get back to the Compound. Now.” As the group started moving, Sam glanced around until his eyes landed on two of his right-hand men. “Winter Soldier, Hawkeye – you two help get everyone as far from here as possible. Somewhere safe.”

The two men nodded and started organizing everyone, guiding their friends and family away from the field.

“Sam!” an anxious voice called, making Sam turn again (and really, he was starting to get dizzy). He saw the last of the nanites closing over Peter’s body, as he was now wearing his Spider-suit, save for his mask. “What can I do?” he asked, his eyes hopeful.

“Go with the others,” Sam replied without hesitation.

“What? No!” Peter spat.

“Pete, man. We talked about this,” Sam argued.

“Yeah, we did.” Peter looked at him with fire in his eyes. “We talked about treating me with kid gloves being bullshit.”

May grabbed Peter’s arm and gave him a pitying look. “Peter, sweetie, c’mon.”

“No,” Peter told his aunt firmly. “Happy, get her out of here,” he ordered the other man. Happy gave the young man a grave look but finally sighed and nodded. May started to protest but Happy tugged her away, heading away up the hill.

Sam shook his head vehemently. “Parker, I’m serious here.”

“So am I,” Peter retorted. His tone was resolute and he had a stony expression on his face.

Before Sam could argue further, the Guardians stepped forward, along with Thor and Valkyrie. “Spiderman can help,” Star-Lord said through his mask, the voice modulator making him sound more serious than he normally would have.

“We’ll keep him safe,” Valkyrie offered.

“I don’t need babysitters,” Peter mumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

“We don’t know what’s in that ship,” Star-Lord commented. “There might be a fight when it lands – or, well, crashes.”

“Yeah, speaking of,” Rocket piped up, pointing at Sam. “You’re not super-powered and you don’t have your fancy-ass wings with you. So you gotta leave, too.”

Sam scoffed. But Rocket ignored him, marching forward and shoving at the man’s legs. “Let’s go,” he barked. “Drax, a little help here?”

As Drax took a step forward, Sam held his hands up. “Fine, fine. I’m going.” He looked pointedly at the others. “Do what you can, but don’t take unnecessary risks. And Peter?” He waited for Spiderman to look at him before he continued. “If you die, I am going to kill you.”

“That sounds counter-productive,” Drax mused as he led Sam away with Rocket.

In the newly emptied-out field, the remaining Guardians—Star-Lord, Mantis, Groot, and Nebula—focused on Thor, Valkyrie, and Spiderman. Star-Lord’s face-plate opened up and he sighed. “Okay, so, Strange and Wong are still doing their shield thingy,” Quill said with a nod toward the Sorcerers several yards away. “But if that fails, we need something for backup.”

Spiderman raised his hand excitedly. “Ooh! I’ve totally got this!” He didn’t bother to explain before letting his face be covered by his mask and darting away.

“Um, okay.” Quill shrugged and looked at the faces around him. “Now what do we do?”

Nebula groaned, rolling her eyes. “You took charge, but you don’t have a plan?”

Quill threw his arms out to the side. “Do I _ever_ have a plan?”

Val sighed and tugged on her ponytail. “A’right. So, the wizards are shielding us. Spidey is doing. . .” she paused, leaning around Groot to try and watch Peter but eventually just shook her head. “Well, he’s doin’ _something_. Lackey and Marvel are trying to stop that thing. Guess that means we’re the ground-support if it ends up being needed.”

Quill’s shoulders slumped. “So, we’re just supposed to wait?”

Val looked to Thor, who only shrugged. There was a disgruntled groan as Nebula dropped down to sit on the ground, resting her elbows on her knees and putting her chin in her hands. Mantis let out a quiet hum before joining Nebula on the ground.

Quill frowned, and Thor clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Worry not, Friend. As quickly as that ship is moving, we shan’t have to wait long.”

Looking up at the god, Quill’s frown deepened. “Great,” he drawled, but the sarcasm was lost on the Thunderer. Quill glanced in the direction Spiderman had darted off and chuckled when he saw that the human-arachnid was busy making a net out of webbing, strung up between two huge evergreen ash trees like a hammock. Hopefully, that would catch the ship when it crashed.

With that thought, Quill turned his gaze up to the sky, where the ship was still hurtling toward them, getting closer by the second. He sighed and let his face-plate fold back down, preparing himself for the inevitable.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Carol had taken only seconds to reach the spaceship. She slammed into the side of it, grunting from the impact. “Well, that hurt,” she mumbled. Carol was clinging to a bar on the side of the small ship – which, she realized, looked like some kind of escape pod – and tried to steady herself. That was easier said than done because of the object’s momentum.

Before Carol could even consider doing much else, though, there was a flash of green and then Loki was above her, balancing himself on top of the pod.

“Shit!” Carol shrieked, flailing in surprise. Loki’s hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her up to join him on the hood of the pod.

“What now, Captain?” Loki asked, shouting over the rush of the wind.

Carol leaned around, as much as she dared, to inspect the pod. It had no markings on it and the window at the front was blacked out. She shook her head. “There’s no way to know where this is from or who—or what—is in it.”

“Splendid.”

“I don’t know how to stop this thing,” Carol admitted. “But maybe we can slow it down.”

Loki nodded. “I’ll do what I can. You do the same.”

“Right.” Carol sighed. She watched for a few seconds as Loki placed his hands on the metal beneath them, casting some kind of spell to affect the object’s inertia. Then, with no other options, Carol leapt off the pod. She flew downward as fast as she could before circling around and flying straight toward the crashing ship. She thrust her arms out in front of her, slamming into the front of the ship and planting her hands on its face.

Carol grunted with exertion, which quickly turned into a prolonged shout as she put all her strength into pushing against the pod to combat its speed.

It felt like an eternity. Carol’s head was tucked down into her elbow and her arms were shaking from effort. And although the pod had slowed down, it wasn’t _enough_.

“Loki!” Carol shouted, hoping the Trickster would hear her. “It’s still gonna crash!”

“I know!” Loki replied, sounding defeated and irritated.

Carol was considering what to do, trying to come up with some other plan. She considered having Loki help her push, or maybe he could get behind the pod and pull on it? Just as Carol was about to voice her only, last-ditch idea, she felt an arm wrap around her waist and then everything faded away.

In the next instant, Carol was back on the ground, tumbling across the field with Loki. When they stopped and Carol was sprawled on her stomach on the grass, she pounded a fist to the ground. She turned to glare at Loki, but he was already jumping to his feet.

“Apologies, Captain,” he told her. “I’ll take it from here.” And then, he disappeared.

“Dammit!” Carol growled. She pushed herself to her feet and turned, watching as Loki reappeared some distance away. Carol realized that she had been dropped off behind the shields that Strange and Wong set up, but Loki had just placed himself in front of them.

“Danvers!” Quill shouted, racing up to Carol. “What happened?”

“We slowed it down, but we couldn’t stop it.” Carol shook her head. “The damage might be minimized, but not by much.” Then, she nodded toward Loki. “I think he’s gonna try to _catch_ it.”

Thor immediately turned and bolted, racing in the general direction of his brother.

“Majesty!” Val hollered, running after her King.

Quill and Carol hurried after them, with the other Guardians joining them. Nebula and Groot managed to cut off the Asgardians, causing them to come to a skidding halt. “You can’t,” Carol insisted from behind them.

Thor opened his mouth to object, but stopped when he heard a shout from Wong. “Strange, wait!” The Shield flickered before it disappeared entirely.

The series of events that happened next were a blur:

Strange tackled Loki, shoving him into a portal that sent them both to another part of the field some distance away.

Spiderman swung past, grabbing Wong and then swinging back by as Wong opened a portal in the air.

The pod dropped into the portal.

Wong’s portal reopened directly above the web-net that Spiderman had made.

The space-ship crashed into the webbing, slowing the momentum before the ship bounced off the web and rolled across the ground.

There was a profoundly loud explosion, with a fiery blast that reverberated and sent everyone flying backward, spread across the field.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Deadpool sat on the couch in the lobby of the Avengers Compound. Dopinder had dropped him off about a half hour earlier, offering to wait for him but Deadpool had told him to go ahead and leave (because, c’mon: Dopinder’s a sweetie and all, but there’s no way the Merc was gonna let his friend/driver sit there _with the meter running_ when he had no idea how long he would be).

When he’d walked in, the whole place was basically empty and the magical voice in the ceiling introduced herself as FRIDAY before saying that she would work on notifying someone of the Merc’s arrival. So, he decided to make himself comfy while he waited. He’d settled in on one of the couches and pulled a _Where’s Waldo_ book out of his trusty backpack, flipping to the page he’d been working on for a couple days (it was Waldo at the beach – finding that motherfucker without his trademark shirt was a real bitch).

And in case you (yes, **_you_** , the person reading this fic) are wondering what Deadpool is doing here, seemingly appearing at random, the plain and simple explanation is this: DocWordsmith loves Deadpool and lacks self-control, so dropping him onto the scene seemed like a good way to spice things up (plus, she did mention him a couple chapters back, so it’s not like you weren’t warned). And DP was not about to deny the author, so here he is, at her beck and call.

Now, back to the story!

So, Deadpool was scouring the pages of his book in the hopes of finding Waldo when he heard a female voice with an accent. “Um, hi?”

Looking up, Deadpool smiled at the couple now occupying the lobby. He shoved his book back in his bag and leapt to his feet, slinging the pack’s strap over one shoulder. “Howdy-ho!” he called, strolling over to the pair.

“Hi,” the woman said again, still sounding uncertain. She looked him up and down, her eyes catching on the several weapons that Deadpool had in plain view on his various holsters (and if there were many others _not_ in plain view, well that’s nobody’s business but his own). The dark-haired woman finally looked back to Deadpool’s masked face. “And, uh. Who might you be?”

Placing his hand to his chest theatrically, the merc introduced himself. “I’m Wade Wilson, AKA Deadpool.” He gave a little flourish of his hand and curtsied.

“Oh. Okay.” The woman bit her lip and gave him a curious look. “I’m Wanda,” she finally said, reaching out to shake Deadpool’s red leather-clad hand. “The Scarlet Witch,” she added.

Deadpool clapped his hands together gleefully. “Ooh, I’m so excited we finally get to call you that!” Looking down at the ground, he muttered, “Yes, I _know_ it was because of copyright infringement. But—” He paused and appeared to be listening before he let out an annoyed groan. “Okay, okay, enough,” he growled, head still turned downward. After a few more seconds, he looked back up with a sigh. “Sorry ‘bout that. The Boxes don’t know when to shut up.”

Wanda quirked an eyebrow at the man having a conversation with himself. Then she let out an amused-sounding huff. She pointed to the man with her. “This is Vision.”

Deadpool shook the man’s hand enthusiastically. “Pleasure to meet you!” Leaning forward and speaking in a stage-whisper, Deadpool said, “I loved you in _A Knight’s Tale_.”

Vision extricated his hand from DP’s and chuckled nervously. Wanda tucked her hair behind her ear and gave Deadpool an awkward, semi-forced smile. “Can we, erm, help you with something?”

“Ah, yes!” Deadpool smiled through his mask. “I’ve been sending letters, but I haven’t heard anything back.” He frowned, then shrugged. “I didn’t have anything going on and heard that the whole gang would be here this week. So, I figured I’d just pop on by.”

“Uh-huh,” Vision said slowly. “What were your letters about, perchance?”

Throwing his arms out to the side and donning a broad smile, Deadpool answered, “Well, about joining you guys!”

Wanda’s eyes widened and she exchanged an inquisitive glance with Vision. Looking back to Deadpool, she scratched at her temple. “So, you, um, you want to be an Avenger?”

“Duh!” Deadpool playfully shoved Wanda’s shoulder. “Who wouldn’t? You guys are the shit!” Then, with a grin, he added, “The good kind of shit. Like, the slang term, y’know?”

Wanda nodded and chuckled softly. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of a large crash – which actually was more along the lines of an explosion – coming from outside.

“The fuck was that?!” Deadpool exclaimed, the white eyelets of his mask widening in shock.

“I don’t know.” Wanda frowned in concern. “But it came from out in the field, where they’re having the barbeque.” She gave a knowing look to Vision and he nodded.

“Let’s go,” he told her. They started for the doors but stopped short when they realized Deadpool was walking with them. “Perhaps you should wait here?” Vision suggested, gesturing back toward the couch.

“Aw, c’mon!” Deadpool whined and stomped his foot. “Lemme come with you! Maybe I can help!”

Vision deferred to Wanda. “Leave the backpack,” she decided. Deadpool dutifully dropped the bag from his shoulders, letting it hit the floor with a thud that echoed in the empty lobby. Sighing, Wanda shrugged. “Let’s move, then.”

And with that, the trio raced out the doors to check on the others.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Star-Lord couldn’t breathe. His mask was smothering him. Why did he ever think covering his face with a hunk of metal was a good idea? He reached up to remove the mask, sending searing pain through his arm. With a groan, he used his other arm, which was partially pinned underneath something but not in as much pain. It took a few tries, but he was finally able to hit the release button so the helmet would slide up, allowing him to suck in several deep breaths.

“Ow,” he whispered to himself. His lungs were on fire and his chest had a heavy weight on it. After a failed, painful attempt to move, Quill willed himself to be as still as possible and tried to take stock of the situation.

He was laying on the ground. There was something on top of him. All he could see above him were trees and a clear, blue sky, with clouds of smoke billowing through the air. There was a crackle of fire somewhere nearby, but otherwise it was silent.

“So, this is it,” Quill muttered softly. He immediately regretted speaking, wincing in pain from the exertion.

A few moments passed. Then, Quill started to hear noises. First, he heard someone coughing. Then, there were footsteps and muffled voices.

“Oh, good, I’m saved,” Quill cheered to himself. Then, he shouted, “Help! I’m over here!”

When nothing happened, he cleared his throat, which was burning from smoke inhalation. Louder, he let out another hoarse shout, “Help! Please, somebody!” With something like a whine as his voice gave out on him, he croaked, “Anybody.”

Quill closed his eyes and was resigning himself to certain death when the weight on his chest suddenly disappeared entirely. He barely had time to open his eyes again before hands were wrapped under his armpits and he was being dragged across the ground.

Thor dropped the tree that he’d lifted off Quill – and dammit, is there anything that guy _can’t_ do?! – and approached, crouching down on one knee next to the Guardian. Then, Valkyrie’s face appeared above Quill’s, from where she was kneeling by his head after dragging him away.

With a smirk, she offered a friendly, “’ello, Sunshine.”

“Are you hurt?” Thor asked.

Quill tried to laugh, but that only made him think that death was the better option. So, he fixed an angry glare at Thor (well, as best as he could while lying flat on the ground). “A _tree_ was on top of me. Of course, I’m hurt!”

“Where?” Valkyrie asked, sounding mildly more helpful.

“Oh, just my everything,” Quill told her.

“Quill!” Mantis shrieked. Running footsteps were followed by her appearing over him next to Val. “You’re alive!”

“Barely,” he answered.

Mantis frowned at his reply. Her eyes darted around as she seemed to be inspecting her friend. Her frown deepened when she poked at his side, causing him to jerk away from her with a sharp gasp. She held up a finger covered in blood.

“Well, that can’t be good,” Quill observed out loud.

He could see Val’s mouth moving, but her voice sounded far away.

Quill’s vision was turning blurry at the edges and he felt like he was only halfway there. “Are we spinning? Or is that just me?” he mumbled.

“Strange!” Thor exclaimed. And Quill was about to agree that yes, it was all very strange. But then the doctor appeared.

“Oh, you mean _him_ ,” Quill managed to say. He giggled at the word-play, which made everything hurt. Then he just squeezed his eyes shut and giggled some more. Abruptly, he stopped laughing to open his eyes and look at the faces above him. “I think I’m dying.” He glanced around at the group. “Is this what dying feels like?”

“He’s going into shock,” Strange told the others. Then, his hands were at Quill’s side, making him flinch and try to pull away. “Don’t move,” Strange ordered.

“Don’t touch,” Quill retorted petulantly. “It hurts,” he added in a whiny tone.

“I know, I know.” Strange’s voice was oddly calm and gentle. Normally, Quill would have said it was patronizing, but in that moment it was actually quite soothing.

“What’s happened here?” Another voice asked. It was less familiar. Probably Thor’s brother, Quill decided.

“He’s dying,” Mantis supplied worriedly.

“He’s not dying,” Strange argued. He sighed and looked back at Quill. “I can help, but I need to examine you to find the damage.”

Quill tried to nod, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as Strange’s hands returned to his skin. The touch alone felt like fire – he was probably burned and scraped up. Then, Valkyrie and Thor had their hands on him, too. They were holding him down because he was squirming away from the doctor’s hand which was now pressing into Quill’s side where he, apparently, had a gaping hole.

Quill continued to be tortured like this for what felt like an eternity. He was pretty sure he was screaming. Just when he felt like he couldn’t take anymore, he heard an annoyed-sounding exhale. Then, Loki was shoving Strange aside.

“Oh, just let me do it,” the mage growled.

“Loki, I’m a _doctor_ ,” Strange chided.

“And my mother taught me healing magic,” Loki snapped back. He held his hands over Quill’s torso and closed his eyes in concentration. There was a flash of green light and Quill let out an agonized shout as he felt like his body was ripped apart and then quickly _slammed_ back together.

When it was over, Quill opened his eyes and blinked a few times. Then, he lurched up into a sitting position, almost knocking into Valkyrie’s head before she pulled herself out of the way at the last second.

“I’m okay?” Quill asked, looking to Loki.

He nodded minutely. “I repaired the major damage to your organs.” He nodded toward Quill’s side, which was now sealed up with new, tender flesh. “I was able to minimize the rest of your injuries, but not rid you of them completely. Your body will still take its own time to heal, but it’s no longer life-threatening.”

“So, I’m not gonna die?” Quill chuckled and rubbed at his shoulder – which was still sore, but nothing like it had been.

“He’s going to live!” Mantis squealed triumphantly, clapping her hands together. Thor and Val helped Quill to his feet.

“I’ll get ‘im up to the Compound,” Val offered. She didn’t wait for a response before looping Quill’s good arm over her shoulders and wrapping her own arm around his waist to support his weight, helping him walk away from the explosion site. Mantis hurried after them, rallying Nebula and Groot to join.

Thor watched them go before turning to Strange and Loki. He narrowed his eyes at his brother and opened his mouth. Loki cringed, prepared for a lecture to spew from the other god. But then Peter ran up to them, panting.

“Um, hey, guys? You wanna come help with this?” He jammed his thumb in the direction he’d just come from, where the pod that had caused all the damage was on the ground in a smoking heap.

Thor nodded at the young man and started walking after him. As he passed Loki, Thor grumbled to him, “We’re not finished.”

Loki rolled his eyes before following his brother. Strange fell into step beside him.

“I was fine, you know,” Loki told the other man in a quiet, heated voice. “You didn’t need to intervene.”

Strange huffed. “You were in the path of a spaceship that was crashing to earth.” With a combination of concern and sarcasm, he added, “Excuse me for being worried.”

Loki shot him a sideways glare, but didn’t say anything else.

Then, Strange said, “You didn’t need to intervene, either.” When Loki stopped walking and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, Strange elaborated: “With Quill, I mean.”

Loki snorted. “You were taking too long,” he stated. Then, he shrugged and looked away. “And I grew tired of watching you run your hands all over that. . .” he paused, searching for the words. Finally, he finished with, “That _space cowboy_.” He didn’t bother trying to hide his sour expression.

Strange cocked his head to the side as he processed the words. Loki took a step to continue toward the ship but stopped when the Sorcerer put a hand on his forearm. “If I didn’t know better, Loki, I’d think you were _jealous_.” Strange almost sounded amused.

Loki scoffed and pulled his arm out of the man’s grasp. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Then, he vanished, reappearing at their destination next to the pod.

Shaking his head and chuckling, Strange allowed the Cloak of Levitation to take over and carry him the rest of the way.

Carol was inspecting the pod, running her hands along it with care. The metal was shredded in parts, with jagged edges sticking out, and other spots were either sparking or charred – they had managed to put out the areas that were actually on fire.

“There’s gotta be a hatch somewhere,” Carol was muttering, almost to herself. “And there should be some kind of release lever.” She backed up to look at the thing before clicking her tongue and stepping forward with purpose. “Right about. . .” She let her voice trail off as she ran a hand on the underside of the craft. "Here," she said as she pressed in on the metal.

There was a click, then whirring noises, followed by the groan of abused metal. Carol stepped back, standing next to the others and watching as the door of the pod opened. When it stopped, Peter immediately took a step forward. Thor placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back a bit, stepping up in his place and peering into the craft.

“Well?” Peter asked, a mix of nervousness and excitement.

Before Thor could answer, a grunt sounded from inside the pod, urging everyone forward to investigate. Carol peered down into the pod and felt her breath leave her in a rush when she saw the face of the being inside.

“No way,” she whispered. Shakily, Carol stumbled backwards. She threw her hands out in front of her in a show of finality. “No,” she repeated, more forcefully.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, looking at his friend with concern.

Carol pointed at the pod. “It can’t be. Not _him_.”

“You know this man?” Thor asked, turning to the Captain.

“He’s Kree,” Loki announced.

There was another sound from inside the ship, a groan. And this time, he sounded more alert. After a small coughing fit, the voice called, “Does someone want to help me out of here?”

Carol laughed incredulously and ran a hand through her hair. Everyone was frozen and seemed to be looking at her for what to do next.

“Captain,” Wong said softly from beside Carol. When she looked at him, he looked a little worse for wear, with ash and some scratches on him, but still had determination in his eyes.

With a nod, Carol looked back to the others. “Get him out,” she told them. “We’ll put him in the cells.”

“Hey!” Wanda called from behind them. Carol was glad for the other woman’s sudden appearance, allowing her to turn away instead of watching as her once-companion was hauled out of the pod.

Her relief at seeing Wanda was replaced by curiosity when she saw two figures with her – one was a blond man in jeans and a t-shirt, and the other a masked man in red and black leather.

“Wow. You guys take ‘barbeque’ to a whole ‘nother level, huh?” The masked man joked, apparently trying to break the tension in the air.

Carol smiled, appreciative of his effort. Then, she heard Loki let out a surprised, “Wade?”

The man’s smile was presented even through his mask, which was kind of eerie. “Honey bunch!” he called back, pausing as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

Loki walked past Carol, chuckling softly and meeting up with the man. They shook hands and greeted each other quietly as Wanda approached Carol.

“Apparently, _that_ is Deadpool,” Wanda told them all, nodding toward him. “He was in the lobby. Said he was waiting to talk to someone about letters he’s written? Guess he wants to be an Avenger.” Wanda shook her head in amusement.

“Gotcha,” Carol replied with a laugh. Then she peeked around her friend to look at the other stranger. “And, is this another new recruit?” she asked teasingly.

Wanda’s face flushed. “Sort of?” She chuckled nervously. “This is—”

“Vision!” Thor shouted with disbelief. Then, he was also rushing past, crashing into the man and engulfing him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Vision?” Carol repeated incredulously. She levied a questioning look at Wanda. “Um, I thought that Vision was,” she paused, trying to put it delicately. “You know, _gone_?”

“He was.” Wanda nodded. She looked back to where Thor was still squeezing the other man and laughing loudly. Turning back to Carol, she shrugged. “Now, he’s back.”

Carol arched a brow. “Yeah, because that just _happens_. All the time.”

Peter cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck as he said, “With us? Actually, it sort of does.”

“I hate to break up the reunion, but can we get some help?” Wong called from beside the pod. Peter rushed over to help, while Carol tried to ignore the all-too-familiar voice telling the three men to be careful of his leg, which was apparently injured.

“So, what exactly happened here?” Wanda asked.

“Escape pods don’t have landing gear,” Carol offered with a shrug. Then, sighing, she finally whirled around, taking in the sight of the Kree as he clung to Peter and Stange.

“Yon-Rogg,” Carol stated plainly, and with as much neutrality as she could manage, as she looked him up and down.

Yon’s face was twisted up in pain but his golden eyes widened and his face cleared a bit, almost in relief. “Vers,” the alien breathed out.

“My name,” the blonde growled, “is Carol.” Her curtness wiped the relieved look from Yon-Rogg’s face, leaving him wincing in pain and looking down at the ground to avoid Carol’s heated glare. Turning to Wong with a hopeful look, Carol asked, “Wanna make the trip a shorter?”

The Sorcerer merely nodded. With his Sling Ring, he created a portal leading to the cells under the Compound. Steeling herself, Carol stepped up and took Peter’s place, letting Yon-Rogg throw his arm around her. She ignored the way he was watching her from the corner of his eye, pretending he was just anybody else, and allowed Wong to take Strange’s spot on the other side as they both stepped through the portal.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Peter watched the portal close behind Carol, Wong, and the Kree. He half-wondered if he should have gone with his friend, based on the haunted look in her eyes when she’d recognized the man she called Yon-Rogg.

He was torn from that thought when he heard Loki’s voice. “Spiderling!” The god was waving him over. As he approached Loki and the suited-up stranger, said stranger appeared jittery with nervous energy. His hands were hanging at his sides, where his fingers tapped anxiously on his thighs.

“This, is Deadpool,” Loki said, with an amused tone as he nodded toward the man in red.

Peter recognized the name, having heard Sam and some others ramble on about the vigilante with a penchant for violence.

“Um, hi,” Peter said with an awkward little wave.

“Hey. Yeah. Hi,” Deadpool replied, his voice a little shaky. He let out a breathy chuckle before reaching out a hand. Peter shook it and Deadpool smiled through his mask. “I’m a major fan. You’re, like, my _favorite_ Avenger, Spiderman.”

It was only then that Peter remembered he was still wearing his mask, and he was kind of glad for the anonymity. “Oh. Thanks,” he told Deadpool with a nod.

Then, the Merc took a couple steps forward, until he was more in Peter’s space. In a low, almost husky voice, he added, “You’re also sort of my superhero crush.” He made a show of dragging his gaze up and down Peter’s body, before their masked eyes met again. “That suit does wonders for you.” He winked and Peter could feel his cheeks burning. Then, Loki stepped forward and shoved Deadpool to the side, away from Peter.

“Down, boy,” he told the Merc.

“What?” Deadpool’s voice oozed with feigned innocence. “I can’t be held responsible for what that Spidey-ass does to me.”

Loki snorted and rolled his eyes. Peter was _really_ glad his mask was still on, because he was certain his face matched Deadpool’s suit.

“Actually, now that I think about it,” Deadpool added as he blatantly checked Loki out. “Your ass could probably do things to me, too.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Or, maybe it’s more like, I would do things to your ass?” With a dismissive wave, he shrugged and turned back to Peter. “But you’re still my numero uno, Baby Boy.”

Peter couldn’t help the nervous laugh that bubbled out as Deadpool cupped his cheek and grinned at him.

“So. _You’re_ Deadpool?” Doctor Strange cut in, appearing from somewhere behind Peter. There was a coldness to his voice and he folded his arms over his chest as he stepped up alongside Loki.

“The one and only,” Deadpool replied, planting a hand on his hip. He pointed at the doctor and said, “And you’re Doctor Strange.” Then, he wiped at his brow. “Whew, glad we got _that_ sorted out.”

Loki barked out a laugh and Strange visibly bristled, clenching his jaw and sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. “And you two know each other?” Strange asked dubiously, gesturing to the mercenary and the mage.

Deadpool folded his hands under his chin and let out a dreamy sigh. “We spent a few beautiful nights together a couple months ago.”

“I’m not sure ‘beautiful’ is the appropriate word for watching your limbs regenerate,” Loki quipped.

“Pfft.” Deadpool folded his arms over his chest. “My healing factor is bar-none the most fan-fucking-tabulous thing you’ll ever have the joy of witnessing. Besides, who needs _limbs_ when I’m such an amazing conversationalist?”

Peter smiled, but faltered a bit when he saw the stern look on Strange’s face. It almost seemed as though the doctor had placed himself between Loki and Deadpool, glaring at the former. Peter glanced between the three with curiosity and mild concern. The tense moment was broken by Wanda clearing her throat as she and the newly-resurrected Vision approached. “We should probably fill the others in, and find Carol to see what the deal was with the space-ship, yes?” She suggested.

Thor stepped forward, beaming from ear to ear. “And the others will want to hear of Vision’s miraculous return!” He clapped the man in question on the back before ushering him up the hill with Wanda, back toward the Compound.

Deadpool instantly looped his arm around Peter’s and started guiding him after the trio. “Okay, tell me all about your powers, Spidey.”

“Um, well, what do you wanna know?” Peter asked, glancing sideways at the man.

“Everything!” Deadpool gushed, patting Peter’s arm with his free hand. So, Peter started at the beginning, from when he got bit by the spider that fateful day at OsCorp and how his powers gradually (read: suddenly and after an incredible bout of sickness and immense pain as a result of the mutation) appeared. As they walked, Peter found it very easy to talk to Deadpool and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like how the Merc hung on his every word.

Behind them, Loki and Strange pulled up the rear in silence. Strange was busy burning a hole in the back of Deadpool’s head and Loki was watching him with his lip curled up in an amused grin. When they were almost back to the Compound, Loki chuckled.

“What?” Strange growled in response.

Just before the doors of the main entrance, Loki whirled around to stand in front of Strange and stopped, causing the Sorcerer to halt as well. Loki paused a moment, waiting for Strange to quirk an eyebrow at him expectantly before he spoke. In a soft voice and an affected Southern accent, Loki said, “I declare, Sir, I do believe you’re,” he broke off, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. What’s the word?” Then, he clicked his tongue as he flicked Stephen on the nose and purred, “ _Jealous_.”

Strange glared at the Trickster. “You’re just trying to get back at me for what I said earlier.”

Loki shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“Are you admitting I was right before, too, then?”

“I did not say that,” Loki argued. After another moment of awkward, yet somehow oddly playful, tension, the god softened. “Deadpool is a flirt. He hardly ever means anything by it,” Loki explained. Then, he turned and watched as the mercenary held the door open for Spiderman, who was talking animatedly. “Although,” Loki drawled, “perhaps we should keep him away from the arachnid. That flirtation, he _just_ might be serious about.”

Loki snickered quietly before turning to make his way to the doors, but Strange grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to face him. “Loki, I—” the mortal let his voice trail off, looking at the Asgardian with earnestness. Gulping, he rubbed his thumb along the pulse point on the inside of Loki’s wrist before releasing him. “For a moment there today, I thought something might happen to you,” he whispered.

Loki’s eyes widened, looking genuinely taken aback. Strange looked down, shaking his head. “It’s ridiculous, and I can’t begin to explain it, but the thought of. . .” he paused, considering his words before finally daring to say, “losing you?” He took a shuddering breath and met the other’s gaze again. “It terrified me.”

“Oh,” was all Loki could manage, eyes wide. They were standing close together, and Loki licked his lips before closing his eyes, rocking back on his heels, and taking a step away from Stephen. “We should go inside.”

Strange understood. He had considered doing the same thing when he’d realized how their faces were just inches apart and he had been way too tempted to do something stupid—such as, kissing the Trickster until the thought of putting himself in danger wouldn’t even be an option—even though almost all the Avengers were literally _right there_. They were being watched, and whatever was happening between them wasn’t something they wanted to reveal to everyone. Not yet, anyway – if ever.

But still, despite the logic of _why_ Loki stepped away, it stung. And that must have shown on Strange’s face, because Loki stopped mid-turn and offered a warm, albeit small, smile. That gesture probably shouldn’t have quelled the fear (which he swore, knew, told himself, was irrational) he felt. Jeez, when had he become so damned sentimental? Strange took a steadying breath, telling himself to focus, as he followed Loki inside so they could deal with the aftermath of what had just transpired. And some ominous feeling told Strange that this was merely the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news: I passed my Statistics class (I was blessed with them changing my teacher three weeks in and the new teacher was amazing – ended up with a 99% which I thank Google and YouTube for)! Hoping to be able to post semi-regularly again. We’re getting into the meatier stuff now, so may be longer intervals but I’ll try not to let it go more than a month – we’ll see. *shrugs*


	15. The cost of your mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vision is welcomed back; it’s decided whether Deadpool will continue helping; Carol catches up with a former friend; and Cassie finally comes clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay on this update, but life has been crazy (I mean, the world may or may not be ending, so there’s that). I wish this one were longer and honestly didn’t accomplish all that I hoped to here, but I felt terrible about making y’all keep waiting. So here we are and I hope you enjoy, regardless.
> 
> Also, this chapter uses an excessive amount of italics – I regret nothing.

Upon entering the building, Strange, Loki, Spiderman, Deadpool, Thor, Wanda, and Vision were rushed by the others who were all clamoring for information. May pushed past all of them. As she rushed forward, she uttered a single syllable: “Pe—” But her nephew’s name died on her lips as she saw that he was still wearing his mask and was surrounded by unfamiliar faces. “Spiderman,” she said instead, releasing a heavy exhale. “You’re okay?”

“I’m good,” Peter replied, with a thumbs-up.

“Valkyrie and the Guardians brought Quill in a bit ago,” Hill offered. “He’s getting medical attention now.”

“But he will be all right?” Thor asked Hill, concern etched across his face.

“Looks like it,” Fury answered for the Commander. “Now, you wanna tell us what kind of clusterfuck just took place out there?”

“Director Fury,” Pepper groaned, pushing her bangs up out of her face and puffing her cheeks out in frustration. She opened her mouth to speak, but then froze. Literally, completely, _froze_. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as her gaze fell on the figure who was, somehow, quite impossibly, present.

“ _Vision_?!” Pepper, Clint, and Bruce all asked/exclaimed in unison.

Vision side-stepped from where he had been somewhat hidden, or at least less obvious, behind Wanda. His physical form shifted as he became encased in red and gold, looking more like the Android the original Avengers had known and loved. Raising his hand, Vision gave a small, nervous-looking wave.

Clint let out a whoop and started laughing before he darted forward and pulled his old teammate into a bone-crushing hug. Bruce approached slower, still looking a bit dumbstruck, but when Vision turned to him, Bruce’s shock faded and a wide smile spread across his face. They, too, hugged. Thor stood behind Vision with his hands on his hips, a booming laugh rolling out and apparently unable to stop.

Everyone else stepped up in turn to greet Vision – either as a reunion or an introduction. Even Fury and Hill looked like they were at a loss for words and just stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, at the reanimated Avenger. After getting over the initial surprise of seeing him at all, everyone quickly fell into a state of sheer joy at having him back. For the most part, he looked the same. Except for one key difference.

In the center of his forehead, where the Mind Stone used to put off a golden glow, there was just a small indent where the Stone had rested and, instead, a bright blue-white light was shining. Pepper recognized it immediately, after having seen it from someone else’s chest so often (even if it had been years since she saw it last).

T’Challa sidled up next to Pepper and they gave each other knowing looks. Folding her arms over her chest, Pepper gritted her teeth as she growled, “Morgan.”

Similarly, although sounding more relaxed (which was actually _more_ terrifying), T’Challa looked over his shoulder. “Sister?”

Shuri had already started slowly walking backwards, away from the scene. She froze mid-step when she heard her name. The Princess let out a nervous little chuckle and jammed her thumb behind her in a random direction. “Sorry, Brother, I have a thing to do. . .”

“Shuri. Come here.” T’Challa’s voice was harsher now, leaving no room for argument. He was facing forward again, his face neutral. “Do not make me ask a third time.”

Shuri dropped her head to look at the ground as she stalked over to her brother like a puppy with its tail between its legs.

Meanwhile, Pepper’s arms were still folded in front of her and she was tapping at her arm with one of her fingers. “Morgan H. Stark!” She shouted, making everyone in the lobby stop and fall silent.

There was a bit of shuffling around and then Morgan was being shoved out from where she had strategically placed herself amongst the Bartons. She glared back at Lila and Cooper. “Traitors,” she hissed to them. Then, she clenched her teeth, jutted her chin out in defiant pride, and marched over to her mom.

“What did you do?” Pepper demanded the moment she deemed Morgan to be close enough.

“Um.” Morgan bit her lip. “Could you be more specific? Because, I mean, I _do_ a lot of things. . .”

Ignoring an amused snort from somewhere in the group (likely Loki), Pepper sighed exasperatedly, frowning and pinching the bridge of her nose. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a few steadying breaths.

“She is certainly her father’s daughter,” Vision offered softly. Pepper’s eyes snapped open and she locked eyes with the android, the anger in her expression softening a bit. Vision extricated himself from the Avengers who had been hanging on and around him, crossing the lobby to stop in front of Pepper. “Your assumptions are correct, Pepper. Morgan,” he started before glancing to T’Challa. “And Princess Shuri,” he added, “brought me back.”

Before anyone could respond, Vision continued. “And I am eternally grateful to both of them.”

“As am I,” Wanda piped up, taking a couple steps forward.

Then, Vision wordlessly wrapped his arms around Pepper and pulled her into a hug. Instantly, Pepper deflated. Her body went lax in Vision’s hold, her shoulders slumping. Tears pooled in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him and returned the embrace.

When they pulled apart, Pepper looked up into Vision’s face. “I’m glad you’re back,” she told him firmly. Then, she turned to her daughter. “And I am so amazed by you.” She gave a small smile before letting her face turn stony again. “But how could you take such a risk?”

Morgan frowned. “He was already _dead_ , Mom. What risk was there?”

It was T’Challa who answered, briefly looking to Morgan but mostly turning his own heated gaze on Shuri. “You could have been hurt. Or you could have caused damage to Vision’s form. Then, no one would have been able to bring him back.”

“But that didn’t happen,” Shuri argued. “We were careful, Brother. And look!” She waved her hands wildly at Vision, in a ‘duh’ manner. “Vision is here. We succeeded.”

“But you had no way to be sure,” T’Challa retorted. He shook his head. “If something had gone wrong, you might have made it so we could never bring him back when someone else tried.”

Morgan threw her head back and groaned loudly. “That was the problem!” She exclaimed to the ceiling. Then, she looked back at T’Challa and her mother with an intensity that a child should not have been able to manage. She narrowed her eyes and made a wide, sweeping gesture with both arms around the lobby. “Nobody was trying!”

Morgan barked out a bitter laugh. “Everyone had stopped trying. But I couldn’t just give up. I had to try _something_.” She turned to Wanda and let the annoyance wash away. “I did it for Auntie Wanda, and for everybody.”

Suddenly, Morgan ran forward, placing herself in front of Fury. “We _need_ Vision. And we need Wanda at her best, which she couldn’t be without him. You get that, right?”

Fury arched a brow. “Uhhhhh.” He glanced over his shoulder to Pepper, who looked equally confused.

“Director Fury, you have to let Vision stay,” Morgan pleaded. She clasped her hands together in front of her and held them under her chin, sticking out her bottom lip and turning on full puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”

Fury gave himself a small shake, as if awaking from a trance, and sighed. “No one is trying to get rid of The Vision,” Fury assured the little girl. “I’m all for him stayin’. The more power we’ve got for whatever comes our way, the better.”

Morgan nodded once and then went back over to her mom. “And, you’re not mad, right?”

“I still don’t like how you did it, Mo,” Pepper admitted. Then she ruffled the hair on the top of her daughter’s head. “But I can appreciate why. And I really am proud of you.”

The pair hugged and T’Challa gave Shuri a look that said she was off the hook for now, but that she could expect security to be much higher when they returned to Wakanda – no more stealing supplies and sneaking bodies out of the country.

“This is just like a Hallmark special!” Deadpool announced, fanning his face with one hand and with the other he wiped a fake tear from his masked face.

“Oh, hell to the naw!” Sam pushed his way forward, so he was right in front of the merc. “No, no, nope, nuh-uh, a million times no.” He shook his head with such force, it should have given him a headache. “ _You_ are not staying,” Sam told Deadpool as he pointed to the door and stared expectantly.

“He just wants to help, Sam,” Spiderman said.

Sam dropped his arms to his side and gave Spiderman an unamused look. “He gets paid to kill people.”

Deadpool raised his hand. “Um, I prefer the term ‘un-alive’ actually.”

“Would you just _leave_?” Sam begged, dragging out the last word.

Spiderman hesitantly placed himself between Deadpool and Sam. “Um, I’ll be honest, I’m not a fan of the whole un-aliving thing, either. But so far, Deadpool hasn’t been a threat. And, didn’t Director Fury literally just say that we need all the help we can get?”

Sam stared at the younger man who was somehow managing puppy-dog eyes even through his mask. Before he could say anything else, Deadpool had narrowed his eyes and pointed an accusatory finger at Sam. “Is it because I’m Canadian?”

“Huh?” Sam asked, rearing back and donning a look of surprise at the conversation’s turn. “No!” he replied, sounding equal parts affronted and confused.

“Wilson!” Fury snarled.

“What?” Sam groaned, at the same time Deadpool sang out a, “Yes, Dear?”

Apparently forgetting that they’d been arguing only seconds before, Deadpool clapped his hands together and bounced on his tip-toes, turning to Sam with newfound excitement. “Oh. Em. Gee! Your last name is Wilson, too?” He gasped loudly. “D’ya think we’re related?!”

“Doubtful,” Sam answered. Then, under his breath, he mumbled, “At least, I fucking hope we’re not,” Sam mumbled.

There was a slight kerfuffle as Cassie shoved her way to the front of the crowd. “Um, hey, guys? Can I say something?”

Scott looked to his daughter, immediately worried when he saw the concerned look on her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Uh. Well.” Cassie’s brows wrinkled and she sighed heavily. “Has anybody seen Ava?”

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

“Trust me,” Carol insisted.

Wong raised a brow, glancing from the Captain to the cell they were standing outside of and back. Carol chuckled and patted Wong’s shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. “I’ll be _fine_ ,” she repeated for probably the fifteenth time, emphasizing the word. With a shrug, Carol added, “Besides, FRIDAY will be there if I need anything.”

Finally, Wong nodded, acquiescing. He put his hand on Carol’s shoulder and offered a comforting squeeze before side-stepping her and walking away.

Carol watched the Sorcerer leave. Then she turned back to the cell door. Steeling herself, she opened the door and stepped inside.

Yon-Rogg was sitting on the bed in the room, his back propped up against the wall. Carol barely spared him a glance as she crossed to the arm-chair in the corner, dragged it to the center of the room in front of her prisoner, and sat down in it. She leaned back, folding her hands together in her lap, and let out a huff.

“This is far homier than I was expecting,” Yon told her, immediately shattering the quiet. He glanced around the room, which was arranged much like a moderately-sized single-person hotel room. Then, with a frown, Yon lifted his wrist – or, he tried to, anyway, as much as was allowed with it being handcuffed to the bed. “This, though?” He nodded toward the cuff. “Well, this is not exactly proper etiquette for how to treat a guest.”

Carol snorted. “A guest?” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and leveling a glare at Yon. “That is so not what you are.”

Yon-Rogg sighed, sounding put-out. Rolling his eyes, he relaxed as best he could in his current position.

“Why are you here?” Carol asked before silence could really settle between them. “And, please, save us both some time and don’t bullshit me.”

Yon regarded her with a scrutinizing look before deflating and slumping against the wall slightly. “I seek asylum,” he stated plainly.

“Asylum?” Carol repeated, unable to hide the incredulity in her tone.

“Yes. The universe is a bit of a mess, in case you hadn’t noticed. And there are few places for someone like me.”

Curiosity piqued, Carol quirked a brow. “Someone like you? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yon narrowed his golden eyes, leaning forward ever so slightly. “A disgrace,” he hissed. Pushing back against the wall, the Kree shook his head. “I am nothing more than a dishonored former soldier, a defector and failure.” With a mirthless laugh, Yon jutted his chin toward Carol. “I have you to thank for that.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” Yon all but growled. “After what you did to me—”

“What I did—" Carol interrupted loudly. She stopped herself, gritting her teeth to keep her anger from bubbling too close to the surface. “What I did,” she tried again, with thinly veiled ire, “was _spare_ you. I let you live.”

“Oh, yes.” Yon scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You kept me alive and sent me back to Hala as an exemplar of what not to do.” Yon’s voice oozed with contempt. “A truly marvelous display of your power, Vers.”

“You still haven’t learned anything.” She leaned back in the chair, folding her arms over her chest and scowling at her former comrade.

“Oh, forgive me,” Yon replied, placing his free hand on his chest as he feigned an exaggerated amount of concern. “You had the power to kill me, but you chose not to. What more was I to learn from that display?”

Carol let out a breath and rubbed her temples. “It was never about _power_ , Yon-Rogg. It was about _mercy_.”

The woman was cut off by the Kree’s bitter laugh.

“Mercy?” He spat the word out like it was a curse. “I returned to Hala wounded and empty-handed. I was disgraced and shunned. Do you know what opportunities there are for a dishonorably discharged Kree warrior?” He snorted derisively before answering his own question, “There was no place for me. I had nothing. I _was_ nothing.” He shook his head before making a vague gesture toward himself. “Do you see now, Vers?” His gold eyes darkened as he tilted his head down, his voice dropping. “Do you see the _cost_ of your _mercy_?”

Carol watched the man for a moment, letting his words sink in. She didn’t have sympathy for him, not really. This was the man who used her, lied to her, stole her memories and her life and future.

And yet. . . This man had also saved her life, taken her in and under his wing on what was to her an alien planet. He had given part of himself to her – changing her forever and with ulterior motives, true; but the overarching result still remained. And before all the lies had been revealed, Yon-Rogg had trained Carol. He’d been the person she’d confided in. The person who she had once considered her friend, maybe even her best (or only) friend.

Carol closed her eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. She wanted to see the good in others, tried to believe there was good to be seen. Maybe even Yon-Rogg deserved a second chance. Or, at the very least, the benefit of the doubt.

“You said you wanted asylum?” Carol asked softly.

The hardness in the Kree’s eyes faded instantly. He looked at Carol with something akin to disbelief. After a moment, he seemed to come to his senses and shook his head, clearing away the stunned look. He bit his lip before giving a curt nod.

Carol nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she leaned back against the armchair with a heavy exhale. “Why should we grant you refuge?” Quickly, she added, “Other than the guilt trip you just tried to lay on me, I mean.” She levied a serious look at the man. “Do you have anything to offer us?”

At that, Yon smirked, looking more like his devilish, cocky self. “You and your friends have made a great many enemies, Vers.” Yon-Rogg _tsk_ -ed quietly. Leaning forward slightly, he narrowed his eyes as he almost whispered, “There are greater threats than the Mad Titan.”

Carol snorted derisively. “We’re the ones who fought that glorified eggplant.” She pointed a finger at Yon. “I promise you, it was a battle hard-fought. With a heavy price.”

“Of that I have no doubts,” Yon assured her. “But certainly you aren’t arrogant enough to believe that Thanos would be the end.”

Carol folded her arms over her chest and stared at her former friend. After a moment of silence, she rolled her eyes. “Go on,” she prodded, waving a hand in the air for emphasis.

“You and your _Avengers_ have painted targets on your backs.”

Carol frowned. “You’re saying someone’s gonna come after us for vengeance?”

Yon-Rogg merely nodded. Carol watched him for a moment before sighing and standing up, brushing dust and soot from the forest off of her shoulder. “Hate to break it to ya,” she started. “But we were kind of already prepared for that.”

“You might have guessed something would happen,” Yon conceded. “But you don’t know the specifics – who, what, when. . .” He let his voice trail off as he leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and looking way too relaxed and pleased with himself.

With a scoff, Carol placed her hands on her hips. “And I suppose _you_ know this information?”

“I’ve some ideas.” Yon-Rogg shrugged, sounding bored. Opening his eyes and focusing that golden gaze back on the Captain, Yon offered a toothy grin. “There are many across the Multiverse who would love to get their hands on the Avengers.”

Carol perked up at the words. She straightened up in the chair and arched a brow, waiting for the Kree to continue.

Yon-Rogg lifted his free hand and held it up in front of his eyes, picking at a splinter in the pad of a finger. “I mentioned that I was dishonored and there was no place for me.”

“You mentioned it, yeah,” Carol replied dryly.

“That led me to many unpleasant places, in the company of unsavory individuals.” Yon dropped his hand to his lap, looking down with a frown at the leg that got injured in the pod. With a groan, he pointed toward his leg. “Can you have someone take a look at that?”

“Maybe,” the blonde shrugged. Carol ran a hand through her hair. “First, you need to give me something I can work with, something real. Tangible.”

Yon tilted his head back and chuckled. “Such as?” he drawled.

“Names, maybe?” Carol suggested, throwing her hands up.

Carol could see Yon thinking. She knew him well enough to know what it looked like, for him to be weighing the options, trying to figure out what to say or just how much to divulge. The silence stretched between them and Yon was possibly trying to intimidate Carol, hoping that she would blink first. But he seemed to forget that she was a soldier, too – on Earth as well as Hala, so she was doubly fortified.

She could wait. So, she did. Carol sat still, stoic, watching Yon in silence.

Finally, the man sighed, muffling it slightly as he scrubbed at his face with his hand. “All right,” he mumbled, sounding slightly defeated. Carol remained silent, staring at the man. When he finally lowered his hand, to see her still watching him, he rolled his eyes playfully. With a grin, he tilted his head down and looked up through his lashes, almost in a chastising way. “You’ve gotten better at self-control, I see. Containing your emotions.”

Carol couldn’t help but give a smug smile. “I’ve been told I have a pretty bad-ass poker face.”

Yon snorted and pointed at Carol. “There’s the shit-talking loud-mouth I know. Always running off, half-cocked.”

The corner of Carol’s mouth curled slightly, her smug grin threatening to turn into something more genuine. “Well, you’d know all about being half-cocked, wouldn’t you?” She threw a wink his way.

Yon tilted his head sideways. “What does that even mean?” he asked incredulously.

Scrunching her brows together, Carol frowned slightly before giving an exaggerated shrug. “I have no idea.”

They stared at each other for a few beats before they both started snickering. When they could no longer stifle it, they burst into laughter. Carol held her stomach, throwing her head back and chortling loudly. Yon laughed so hard that he started coughing, which only made them both laugh harder until Carol was waving her hand in the air, having run out of breath and just silently ‘laughing.’ Meanwhile, Yon-Rogg’s laughter petered out into wheezing giggles and he wiped at tears in his eyes.

Once they’d collected themselves and fallen silent, Yon sniffed before softly saying, “I truly have missed you, Vers.”

Carol met his gaze, which was far too heartfelt for the blonde’s liking. Looks like she had let her guard down, after all. It had been too easy to fall back into friendly banter, like they used to do.

But a lifetime had passed since then.

Internally, Carol cursed herself. Outwardly, though, she just cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ear, sitting in the chair again. “I believe you have some names for me?”

The Captain ignored the crestfallen look on the Kree’s face. To his credit, he recovered quickly, inhaling deeply and nodding, donning a look of neutrality.

“Amora,” he stated. “She is known as The Enchantress. I believe your Asgardian friends will be quite familiar with her.” He chuckled. “Although, they might be surprised to learn she’s still around. She’s been living in exile. But the hatred she has for her people has been steadily growing, along with her powers. It won’t be long now, that she decides to stop biding her time and take action. She’ll be a formidable threat.”

Carol was surprised at the amount of information. Especially if it turned out to be true. She narrowed her eyes. “You know I’ll fact-check all of this.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Yon told her. “The Odinsons will confirm,” he stated confidently.

With a terse nod, Carol folded her arms over her chest, watching Yon-Rogg expectantly. When he didn’t speak, she sighed. “What else? I need more.”

Yon rolled his eyes. But, wonder of wonders, he continued to comply. “Doom.”

“That sounds ominous,” Carol admitted, although slightly dubiously.

“Slightly.” Yon actually looked a bit bored. “His name is Victor Von Doom. Doctor, supposedly, but of what, I don’t know.” There was a hint of mirth in the man’s yellow eyes. “He’s a sorcerer, and at times can be quite ridiculous. But he actually is quite clever, which can be dangerous.”

“So, an Asgardian witch and a maniacal genius with magic,” Carol summarized. “That’s all you’ve got for me?”

“Hardly,” Yon scoffed. “But I can’t divulge all my secrets at once, can I?” He nodded toward his injured leg. “Quid pro quo, Vers.”

“You’re using information as a bargaining chip, then?”

“Might as well work with what I’ve got.” Yon shrugged. “And you’ll want to do your ‘fact-checking,’ I’m certain.”

With a snort, Carol stood. “Fine, I’ll do that. In the meantime, we’ll see what we can do about your leg.” Somewhat resignedly, Carol headed for the door.

Yon’s voice stopped her just as she grabbed the handle. “There is another name,” the Kree said quietly.

“Yeah?” Carol glanced over her shoulder. The man on the bed was staring at the floor, his face twisted in concentration. The woman turned around fully, curiosity piqued. But she waited in silence while Yon seemed to be mulling over something.

Finally, Yon-Rogg looked up at Carol. “I _was_ planning on saving this information until the last.”

Carol’s brows shot up. “So, it’s the good stuff, then?”

Yon nodded. “Arguably, this is the most important bit of information.”

With a frown, Carol couldn’t help asking, “Why are you letting it go so early then?”

Something glistened in those inhuman eyes. “If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t.” Yon sighed. “I lied to you about a great many things. But, for what it’s worth—if it’s worth anything at all—I never lied about our friendship.” He chuckled softly. “I never meant to get so. . .” he paused, searching for the words. “ _Attached_ to you,” Yon finally settled on.

Carol’s gaze travelled across the Kree’s face, searching for any hint of duplicity. But his face and tone both oozed with a genuineness that again made Carol miss, almost _ache,_ for what they once had. Because, as Yon seemed to agree, even if their coming together and friendship had been founded on a lie, that didn’t mean that it actually was one itself.

“It’s worth something,” Carol finally responded, her voice soft even in the quiet of the room.

Yon looked at her and gave a firm, somewhat knowing nod. Then, he exhaled and said, “I don’t know much about this one, which is part of why he’s so dangerous. He can travel across time and space, as if the Multiverse is entirely open to him. He has many names. He's also known for his longevity and cruelty, as well as the power to enslave and destroy others.”

Carol felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up at Yon’s words. She fought the urge to roll her eyes as the Kree took an extended pause (probably for dramatic effect). Finally, Carol cocked her hip out and placed a hand on it. “The name, Yon.”

Yon paused as a dark shadow flickered across his face before answering: “Rama-Tut.”

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Everyone stared at the monitor in front of them, which had just faded back to black. Cassie, Scott, all three Van Dynes, Pepper, Bruce, and Sam had all made their way to one of the control rooms. There, Pepper asked FRIDAY to show the last known footage of Ava.

The screen had blinked to life, flickering briefly before showing camera feed of Ava in the lab that Hank used. It showed Ava trying to bolt out of the lab, when she hit into the edge of one of the tables. The girl had frozen for a moment before pulling the damaged accelerator from her pocket, along with pieces of glass from what could only be assumed to be broken vials of Pym particles. Then, there was a flash of light that whited out the entire screen. When the brightness faded, all that was left was an empty lab.

After a few moments, Bruce cleared his throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen. “And you haven’t picked up any trace of Ava since then?”

“ _There’s been no sign of Miss Starr in or around the Compound_.”

Cassie gulped audibly. She was sitting in a chair, wringing her hands together in her lap and resolutely avoiding eye contact with anyone, especially her dad.

“The missing suit,” Hank murmured softly, shaking his head. He gave a mirthless chuckle, then pointed a finger at Cassie. “ _You_ stole it.”

“I did not _steal_ anything,” Cassie argued as her head snapped up to glare at the older man.

Scott arched an eyebrow, catching the emphasis his daughter had placed on her wording. “But you did do something with the suit?” To which, Cassie opened her mouth but quickly closed it. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Scott growled. “So, what exactly did you do with the suit, then, Cass?”

Looking much like a deer in the headlights, Cassie dropped her eyes back to the floor. She tucked her head down, mumbling rather incoherently.

Hank put a hand to his ear in an exaggerated gesture. “We didn’t catch that. Come again?”

With a heavy and annoyed-sounding sigh, Cassie looked up. “I said, I _borrowed_ the suit.” She narrowed her eyes at Hank, sinking down in the chair and folding her arms over her chest. “And refurbished it,” she added.

Scott raked his hands through his hair, letting out a disbelieving huff. “Wait. So, you—are you saying—does that mean—” the man stopped his stammering and stared around the room with wide eyes.

Slowly, and with a hint of wariness, Pepper spoke up : “FRIDAY, didn’t you say something about an unknown vigilante who’s been stopping petty crimes?”

“ _That’s right, Ma’am_ ,” the AI responded. “ _There have been intermittent sightings, from various security cams and CCTV. I did detect similarities to Wasp and Ant-Man, but the individual was otherwise unknown_.”

There was a soft whining sound that came from Scott. “Cassandra Lang, please tell me this is not what it looks like,” the former con man all but begged.

“What it looks like,” Hank cut in with an air of superiority, “is that your daughter has ignored every warning and cautionary tale we’ve ever given her, stole one of my suits, and has been using my tech without permission to go on her own suicide missions.”

When Cassie didn’t immediately respond, Scott scoffed lightly. “Well?” he asked, looking at his daughter with a heartbreaking mix of hope and disappointment.

Cassie frowned. “I still think ‘stole’ is a strong word,” she mumbled.

“You could have been killed!” Scott exclaimed, placing a hand on the nearest desk to steady himself.

“But I wasn’t! I’m fine,” Cassie insisted.

“Too bad we can’t say the same about Ava,” Hank chimed in darkly.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a dull pocketknife. Eyes darted around at one another and everyone shifted awkwardly, clearly trying to figure out how to navigate the situation.

Inwardly groaning, Sam took the initiative. “So, um, any idea where Ghost is now?”

Hank threw his arms out to the side. “She could be anywhere. But from the looks of the video, with the size of that flash and the fact that Ava disappeared without a trace? I’d be willing to bet she went sub-atomic.” The dread in his voice was palpable.

Cassie inhaled shakily, clenching her fists at her side. It looked as though she were moments away from bursting into tears or punching something (or both). Janet decided to intervene, stepping forward with slow but sure steps. She patted her husband’s forearm, giving him a reassuring smile and silently communicating to him that he can stand down. Then she continued over to Cassie. She put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and smiled down at her. “If anyone can survive in the Quantum Realm,” she stated, “it’s Ava.”

“You really think so?” Cassie whispered.

Janet nodded. “Her unique makeup gives her an advantage.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Bruce asked.

Turning to the radiation expert, Janet shook her head solemnly. “Without knowing Ava’s exact location, or even what realm she’s really in, we can’t track her, which means we can’t get to her.” Janet focused her eyes on the dark screen. “We can only hope that she manages to find her own way back.”

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Carol raced through the halls of the Compound, with Chewy hot on her heels. “FRIDAY!” she called with a minute glance up at the ceiling. “Where is everybody?”

“ _I’m afraid most of the Avengers are scattered throughout the Compound, Captain_ ,” FRIDAY offered, apologetically. “ _But Captain America, Miss Potts-Stark, and Dr. Banner are congregated in Control Room 7_.”

Carol nodded in acknowledgement before skidding around a corner and darting down the hall to the desired location.

When she reached the control room, Carol unceremoniously crashed into the room, without knocking and almost breaking the handle off the door with the force she used. Unfortunately, she wasn’t as restrained as she intended to be, as the door creaked and hung crookedly, knocked partially off the hinges.

“Oops,” Carol muttered, letting go of the handle and letting the door swing somewhat haphazardly.

Pepper’s eyes widened before she slumped and let out a resigned sigh. “FRIDAY, would you create a requisition request to rehang the door in Control 7, for the maintenance crew when they come next?”

“ _Certainly, Ma’am_.”

The fact that Pepper and FRIDAY both were unfazed by the action probably spoke volumes. But then again, living with superpowered individuals did tend to have weird consequences.

“Where’s the fire, Marvel?” Sam asked, looking at the woman seriously.

“I talked to Yon-Rogg,” Carol panted. “He, um, he – whew. Okay, hang on. Just, uh, gimme a sec.” She leaned forward, resting her palms on her knees and taking several slow, deep breaths. When she straightened back up, her breathing had evened out and her face wasn’t so flushed from her sprint. Trying again, she said, “Yon-Rogg gave me the names of some persons of interest.”

“Threats?” Sam queried.

Carol nodded, just as FRIDAY said, “ _I already logged the names and have begun searching for signs based on the names as well as the descriptions and information provided to Captain Danvers_.”

“Thanks, FRI.” Pepper smiled up at one of the security cameras. Looking back to Carol, she tilted her head sideways. “I’m guessing you have something more pressing, though?”

“Yeah, because a couple of the names he gave are kind of general. But one sounds a bit more serious.”

“Serious in what way?” Bruce asked as he straightened his glasses.

Carol looked toward him with a grim expression. “As in, it sounded pretty similar to Strange’s prophecy and to what the kid has been alluding to.”

Everyone exchanged worried glances. But Carol smiled. “This is good news, guys. We have something to work with now! Maybe we can gain the upper hand?” Her enthusiasm faded slightly by the end, if only because of the concerned expressions on her friend’s faces.

“So what do we do now?” Hope asked, looking from Carol to Pepepr and Sam, and back.

Carol gave a smug grin. “I say it’s time we made the kid start talking.”


	16. The least evil person in the room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce envies Nebula; Bucky doesn’t like the plan the Avengers come up with; Nate gets some visitors; Loki experiences something new and learns invaluable information; & Natasha provides Ava with some tools to help with their escape from the Soul Realm.

Bruce leaned forward, resting his palms on the table in front of him with a heavy sigh. He had left the control room meeting so he could check on the scans FRIDAY was running on the technology confiscated from Nathaniel when he’d been brought in. For a good fifteen minutes or so, Bruce had been staring at the screen, still trying to fully process and comprehend things.

FRIDAY had thoroughly examined Nathaniel’s devices. In fact, the AI had run several tests multiple times so that she could be positive. And she always came back with the same answer.

“ _All forms of technology that Mr. Richards was using were created by Tony Stark – including the AI, JOCASTA,_ ” FRIDAY had reported.

“Okay,” Bruce said slowly. “But just, like, _a version_ of Tony, right?”

“ _It is likely that individuals might differ greatly from one reality to the next,_ ” FRIDAY concurred. “ _However, those differences are in reference to variants that influence personality, or choices that impact the course of one’s life._ ”

“Meaning. . . what, exactly?”

“ _Meaning, Dr. Banner,_ ” FRIDAY continued as Bruce straightened up and began to pace. “ _Identities across the Multiverse can still be cross-referenced to specific patterns, leaving an individual with one or more key characteristics at the core which are likely to persist across all realities._ ”

Bruce paused in the middle of the room, absently rubbing the shoulder of his bad arm. He considered FRIDAY’s words, halfway waiting for her to continue speaking. When she didn’t, he furrowed his brows and exhaled sharply. “Okay. So. You’re saying that you can confirm, with absolute certainty, that this tech was designed by Tony Stark?”

“ _Indeed_ ,” FRIDAY responded. “ _Boss had a signature that was evident in everything he did. It is present in this ‘other’ version’s work, as well._ ” Then, with something that almost sounded wistful, she added, “ _I believe it is what Ms. Potts-Stark would call ‘flair.’_ ”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Bruce’s mouth at that. Finally, he picked up the ear-piece that Nathaniel Richards had been wearing, twirling the small device in his hands, considering what he ought to do next. He wasn’t exactly a ‘tech guy’ to begin with, so dealing with all of this was kind of foreign to him.

“Well?”

“What the—shit!” Bruce let out an undignified yelp, practically jumping several feet in the air and almost dropping the ear-piece, when he heard the unexpected voice break the silence of his lab. Spinning around, Bruce clutched his chest and took a few deep breaths before levying a glare at Nebula where she stood by the door. “You can’t sneak up on people like that!”

Nebula frowned. “Of course I can. I just did.” She rolled her eyes before stalking (and, really, that was the only word for it) over. She stopped next to Bruce, staring over at him expectantly.

“What?” Bruce asked defensively, fighting the urge to shrink back under Nebula’s black gaze.

“ _I assume Nebula would like to know the results of the tech analysis_ ,” FRIDAY offered.

Nebula gave a terse nod. “Did he make it?” she asked gruffly.

“Yeah,” Bruce answered. “FRIDAY confirmed it. She quadruple-checked it.”

With a muttered curse, Nebula glared down at the floor. Bruce watched her fists clench and unclench at her sides. A storm was brewing within her. She was angry, but there was something else there, too. . .

 _Hurt_.

“Are you, uh—you good?” Bruce asked tentatively, keeping his voice calm and level.

Nebula’s gaze snapped back to Bruce, who couldn’t help but flinch a little. “I’m fine,” the Luphomoid lied. Shaking her head, she let out a frustrated growl.

Bruce knew that Nebula had cared about Tony, been close to him. It seemed as though he’d managed to get closer to her than anyone else ever had – save, of course (perhaps) her sister. Something tightened within Bruce’s chest as he realized that in the whole Multiverse, Nebula had had _two_ people. And she’d lost both of them, far too soon. It was profoundly sad, and also happened to hit a little too close to home.

“What are you staring at?” Nebula asked suddenly, ripping Bruce from his musings. He gulped softly as he quickly averted his gaze, feeling heat rush to his cheeks.

“Nothing,” Bruce mumbled. Then, rethinking it, he sighed and looked back up to Nebula. “I’m just, sorry that you lost him. That’s all.” He examined the woman’s face – the tightness of her jaw as she grit her teeth, the slight furrow to her brow as she narrowed those eyes that looked like an endless night sky.

“It wasn’t just me,” Nebula finally responded. Looking down, she added, “Everyone lost him.”

The tension in her face and voice were evident. Yet, she was standing still and maintaining rationale. The storm that Bruce had seen only moments ago had subsided, the boil receding down to just a simmer. Bruce found himself feeling. . . _envious_. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked awkwardly on his heels, avoiding eye contact with the woman.

If he was being honest with himself, Bruce had always found Nebula intriguing. She was obviously lethal, carrying herself with a predatory confidence that bordered on feral. But over the last few years, she had changed a lot. She’d learned to curb her anger and rage, to save that killer instinct for battles with villains or to channel it into more positive outlets. No longer did anyone have to walk on egg-shells for fear of offending or setting off the Luphomoid. In fact, she had even been known to make a joke now and then (even if it was often a sarcastic barb).

Bruce wished he could be like that. The rage and hurt and anger were all there. He only ever really pacified them and the Beast within, never truly beating any of it. If he could, if he thought it would do any good, he would dig at his own skin until he found that anger that was most assuredly there, just beneath the surface, _always_ – lingering like a virus – and he would claw it out until not a single remnant was left.

Although, Bruce also knew now that Hulk was not just some thing that he couldn’t control. Hulk was a full-fledged being in his own right. And he wanted out, to live a life of his own, free to do what he wanted – which was to rage against all the injustices and to right wrongs, with as much force as may be necessary. Most of all, he wanted to _smash_. But Bruce couldn’t let him out, couldn’t succumb to those base desires. Because if he did? He didn’t know if _he_ would ever resurface. That left him feeling even angrier, at himself for being so out of control. It also made him feel guilt and shame knowing that he was keeping Hulk locked away, all because Bruce couldn’t control himself, wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t _good_ enough. . .

A low, guttural sound—almost like a growl—drew Bruce from the thoughts he had all but gotten lost in. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on the present moment. He reared back slightly as he realized that Nebula was weirdly close to him. She was giving him a scrutinizing look – it was an odd expression, some combination of annoyance and concern.

This close, and with the fluorescent lights of the lab shining down, Bruce couldn’t help but notice the faint sheen that covered the Luphomoid’s skin. The blue and purple tones marbled together, swirling and shining, like a galactic supernova – which, Bruce remembered, is called a _nebula_.

An amused snort escaped him, causing Nebula to narrow her eyes suspiciously. Bruce tried (too late) to cover it up with a cough, putting his hand up to his mouth and exaggeratedly clearing his throat. Nebula rocked back on her heels, still eyeing Bruce and looking like she wanted to comment. But the man didn’t give her a chance.

He gestured toward the devices in front of them and asked, “So, what should we do with these?”

Nebula turned her attention to the tech. And Bruce barely suppressed the relieved sigh that came from no longer being the object of the woman’s attention.

“I’d like to take a look at these myself,” Nebula finally decided.

“ _Be my guest,_ ” FRIDAY offered. Several computer screens flickered to life, with data files and lines of code appearing on them.

Nebula nodded toward the chair Bruce had vacated and then gave him an expectant look.

“Oh!” Bruce grabbed the arm of the chair and scooted it over to Nebula. “Go right ahead.”

With but a nod, Nebula sat down in the chair and leaned forward to examine the information in front of her.

Bruce shuffled awkwardly on his feet. After a moment, he heard Nebula click her tongue, drawing the man’s focus back to her. She jerked her head toward another chair. Bruce frowned, confused at first, but then he slowly made his way over to the chair and rolled it over next to Nebula.

“Sit,” Nebula instructed, still reading through the information on the screen. Bruce obeyed the command, dropping into the seat, and watched the woman in silence for a moment. He was about to say something when she started speaking again. “See this data here?” Nebula pointed to a spot on the screen.

Bruce leaned forward, adjusting his glasses. “Yeah,” he answered, once he’d found the spot Nebula had pointed out.

“That references how the system is formatted, for the foundation of the suit the kid was wearing. . .”

From there, Nebula proceeded to explain everything as she went through it. Bruce listened intently and nodded along. He didn’t know what he’d done to earn this attention from Nebula, for her to include him like this, but he sure wasn’t going to waste it.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

It was a terrible idea.

But it was also the only one they had.

Because nobody could deny that they needed information. And since Nathaniel had been the one to drop this steaming pile of shit on their doorstep, talking to him seemed like the best way to find out _why_.

Despite the vast number of Avengers in the Compound at the time, many of them had found themselves busy with other things. Bruce was checking on the results of analyzing Nathaniel’s tech; the Guardians were checking on Quill after his close-call; T’Challa and Okoye were giving Shuri a stern talking-to, as Pepper was doing with Morgan; Scott and the Langs were still discussing Cassie’s secret life of crime-fighting, and trying to come up with theories about how to help Ava; Deadpool had been dropped off in the cafeteria because apparently his stomach was a bottomless pit; Spiderman had disappeared, in an effort to maintain anonymity; and most of the others had decided to make themselves scarce. There was only a small skeleton crew in the conference room, discussing this terrible, no good, very _dumb_ idea.

“Carol,” Sam asked, turning to the Captain. “This ‘tip’ from your friend—”

“Not my friend,” Carol interrupted, holding up a finger.

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Okay, so the guy is not exactly your friend but you trust him enough to take his words at face-value?”

Carol snorted. “Of course not.”

“Then what the hell are we doing?” Clint threw his arms out to the side in mild exasperation.

Swiping blonde hair out of her face, Carol sighed. “My history with Yon-Rogg is. . .” she paused, apparently searching for the word before finally continuing with, “complicated. He’s not exactly the most trustworthy person, but he’s all about self-preservation.” She shrugged lightly. “He needs us, and he knows it. So he’s buying our help – and, he thinks, maybe his freedom – with information. He wouldn’t risk making that information false.”

That logic actually seemed sound enough, so it was agreed that Nathaniel would be questioned. About what he was really doing here, how he got here, what this threat was, when they could expect it, and, most importantly, if the name Yon-Rogg had given Carol meant anything to him.

Wanda had volunteered (and insisted on being the one) to conduct the questioning.

“Is that smart? I mean, the kid admitted that he hates you,” Rhodey was quick to point out.

But Wanda wasn’t budging. “I’m doing it. Him not liking me could work in our favor.”

“You think he’ll be intimated enough to tell you something?” Bucky asked curiously.

“Or to let something slip, yes,” the Sokovian answered. Then, as if compromising, Wanda added, “I don’t have to go alone. Doctor Strange could join me.”

Sam gave a crestfallen shake of his head. “No can do. Strange is busy checking on our other guest.”

When Wanda frowned, Carol took it as confusion and offered an explanation: “Yon-Rogg’s been complaining about his leg. I told him we’d have someone look at it and Strange _is_ a doctor.”

Vision raised a tentative hand. “I can go in with Wanda.”

An amused, and not particularly kind, snort sounded from the corner of the room. Everyone turned their attention to Valkyrie, where she was slouched in a chair. Loki and Thor had been standing beside her, silently observing the proceedings. With a bored-sounding sigh and a small grunt, Val launched herself out of her seat and made her way to the middle of the room. “And what happens if this kid doesn’t cooperate?” Val glanced around at the group. She held her hands up in a placating manner. “I mean, we can _try_ your way, Witchy. But should that fail? I don’t think we really have time to waste with diplomacy.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

With a shrug, Val leaned back against a desk. “Simply that maybe the Witch’s backup shouldn’t be someone with a terribly precise moral compass.”

Inhaling sharply through his nostrils, Sam closed his eyes. “Valkyrie,” he all but growled. “Out with it. What do you mean?” he asked more forcefully.

There was a groan from the other side of the room, and Loki took a few steps forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She means that if he won’t talk on his own accord, someone should _make him talk_.”

Sam gaped. “What, you?”

“Loki’s an extraordinarily skilled mage. He has ways of getting information.” Val offered a devilish, albeit somewhat sour, smile. “Even that which one does not wish to divulge. And he may not even have to say a word.”

Bucky paled. “Seriously?” He scoffed. But he remained stiff, tension rolling off of him in waves as he looked from Loki to Val and back. “You’re not actually thinking about fucking with the kid’s mind?”

Loki actually looked offended. “Certainly not,” he assured Bucky. Then, carefully, he added, “I might, however, take a peek inside.”

“You can do that?” Rhodey queried, his voice wavering between intrigued and concerned.

“I can.” Loki nodded and offered a toothy grin that spoke of mischief. But then in a more serious tone, he said, “Although, I typically do not. It is, after all, highly invasive.”

“It’s not mind control though?” Clint asked dubiously, watching Loki through narrowed eyes.

“No, I would not be influencing or _controlling_ him in any way, Barton,” Loki insisted.

Carol chewed on her lip. “You’d just be looking at, like, his memories?”

Loki gave a quick nod in the Captain’s direction. “Precisely.”

The blonde seemed to consider that for a moment, rolling the idea around, before finally nodding back at the mage. Bucky let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re okay with that?” he asked, focusing on Carol.

“No,” the woman answered. “But I don’t see any alternatives. And if there’s not gonna be any mind control happening—”

“We’re still talking about invading someone’s mind!” Bucky raised his voice. Pointing at Carol, he continued: “You, of all people, know that even messing with memories can be dangerous.”

A shadow of frustration crossed Carol’s face as she narrowed her eyes at her teammate. But before she had a chance to speak, Loki had stepped forward and lightly placed a hand on Bucky’s forearm. The Soldier turned to the Asgardian, still amped up but without malice (which was a good thing, at least).

“I can appreciate your concern, Sergeant. But I assure you, I would not influence or change anything in the boy’s mind. I would merely be observing that which is relevant, should he fail to disclose it to us on his own accord.” Loki stared intently at Bucky, something surprisingly heartfelt in his eyes and the soft tone with which he spoke.

“Buck,” Sam interjected. “We really don’t have other options.”

It was silent in the room for a long moment. Finally, Bucky shook his head, almost in defeat. “Fine. Do what you have to do. But I’m not watching.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out.

“He’ll be fine,” Sam told the rest of the group – although it sounded more like he was reassuring himself. With a sigh, the leader rolled his shoulders and looked at Wanda. “All right, you’ll try talking to the kid, see how much you can get out of him.” There was a pause before Sam continued, grinding out the words as though they left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Loki will be your backup. If anything goes wrong, or if the kid won’t give you anything, then Loki can—" Sam stopped again, inhaling somewhat shakily. To Loki, he said, “You can look in his mind if it becomes necessary.”

“ _Only_ if it’s necessary, though,” Carol added sternly.

Loki nodded in acknowledgement. Everyone mumbled some form of agreement before dispersing, making the way from the small conference room down to the holding cell where Nathaniel was, unwittingly, waiting.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

As they made their way to the cells, Thor sidled up next to Loki. “Brother,” the Thunderer began hesitantly, his brows stitched together in worry. “Are you sure you—”

Loki cut his brother off with a wave of his hand. “I shall be fine,” Loki stated. “Perhaps your little Witch will be successful at getting the boy to talk.”

“But if not?” Thor asked, apparently not readily giving up on having the conversation.

“Then I’ll get the information you need,” Loki told him with a noncommittal shrug.

“And you’ll be okay?” Thor had a look of genuine concern his eyes.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, Loki glanced at Thor out of the corner of his eye. “Yes, Thor. I’ll be fine,” he repeated, more forcefully.

Thor didn’t look terribly convinced, but he also didn’t argue the point further. They continued walking in silence, stopping when they finally reached the cell.

“We’ll be in here.” Sam pointed to a door nearby, which was clearly the one that looked in on the boy’s cell.

“We’ll see and hear everything,” Clint added, looking pointedly at Loki before he walked into the observation room with Sam and Rhodey.

“We’ve got this,” Wanda said with a smile. Vision kissed the back of her hand before heading into the adjoining room where he’d also be watching.

Thor squeezed Loki’s neck and patted Wanda’s arm. Val stepped up and grabbed Loki’s forearm with one hand and placed the other around his neck, like she’d done when she’d first greeted him in the lobby the day before. Loki returned the gesture and leaned their foreheads together.

“Whoever thought that something you did to me out of cruelty would later come to be helpful,” Val mused under her breath, so only Loki could hear.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Loki replied softly before releasing her. Valkyrie winked at Wanda, then ushered Thor into the other room.

Only Carol remained. “Remember, the name to ask him about is Rama-Tut,” she reminded them.

“Got it.” Wanda gave a thumbs up. Once Carol was in the other room, Wanda looked at Loki. “Ready?”

“After you, Little Witch,” he told her, waving his hand in front of him.

Wanda exhaled sharply. Then, she opened the door and stepped into the cell.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Nathaniel had been laying on his side on the bed, staring at the wall. Luis and Kurt had, apparently, been relegated to watching him on a more full-time schedule. Which wasn’t terrible, because Luis – as in almost every other reality – was extremely friendly and talkative. He rambled on about anything and everything. He even managed to get Nate talking some, but that was only because it was trivial information about the differences from one universe to the next. Eventually, he’d said he was tired and laid down, as if to sleep. He curled up so he wasn’t facing the one-way mirror and instead just looked at the wall.

That left him with just his thoughts, which was miserable. He found himself missing JOCASTA – certainly, she’d be chattering in his ear, giving the kind of pep-talk that only she was capable of giving, in which she insulted him by telling him what an idiot he was being and then proceeding to tell him how a smart person would manage to get out of such a shitty situation.

Nate smiled to himself, hoping he’d be successful this time. And that he’d get to hear JO’s voice again soon.

The sound of the door opening pulled Nathaniel from his thoughts. He jolted upright on the bed, sitting with his back against the wall and looking at his visitors.

His stomach clenched as he saw Maximoff step in. Behind her was, wonder of wonders, Loki Laufeyson. The door shut behind them with a flurry of green (Loki’s doing, of course).

“Hello, Nathaniel,” Maximoff greeted, her voice pleasant enough and a smile on her face. But all Nate could do was give a half-hearted nod in return. Looking uncomfortable, the Sokovian gestured to the mage beside her. “This is—”

“Loki, son of Laufey. The rightful king of Jötunheim,” Nathaniel drawled. “I’m aware.” He grinned cheekily. Maximoff cleared her throat, clearly feeling awkward. Loki merely stared at Nate, with that mask of neutrality that he was so skilled at wearing. Nathaniel could almost see the gears turning as the mage tried to work out his next steps, always plotting ten steps ahead.

“Curious,” Loki muttered, cocking his head to the side as he looked at Nathaniel. A few more seconds ticked by before Loki let out a sharp laugh. Maximoff looked at him questioningly. Loki simply clasped his hands behind his back and started pacing around the room. “I must admit, I’m not used to this.”

“Used to what?” Maximoff asked, haltingly, watching her companion.

Loki tossed a glance over his shoulder to the woman, grinning in an almost predatory way. “Being considered the least evil person in the room.”

Spinning on his heel, Loki crossed over to the surveillance glass and leaned back against it, folding his arms over his chest. He jerked his head toward the mirror. “They’re all very concerned about you and your motives here,” he told Nate. Then, sounding far too amused he said, “But _you_ are concerned about her.” He nodded toward the Scarlet Witch.

Waving his arms out, clearly referencing himself, Loki said, “And then there’s just little old me. Who has somehow become the most trustworthy person here.”

There was a _click_ of the intercom, followed by Clint’s voice, all but growling, “Keep talking, Loki. Let’s see how quickly that status changes for you.”

Loki turned to face the mirror, holding his hands up. Then, turning to Nate, he whispered, “So touchy,” and tossed in a wink for good measure.

Maximoff rolled her eyes and stepped forward. Nate’s hands clenched and unclenched, uselessly reaching for armor and gauntlets that _weren’t there_.

“We have some questions for you.”

“I told you,” Nathaniel started, trying to sound firm. “I’ll gladly tell you everything I know, but only if I can talk to everyone.”

Maximoff leveled an inquisitive gaze at him. “Why is that so important to you? To talk to all of us together, I mean.”

Nathaniel sighed and tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling. “I need to know everyone’s united.” Sitting up straight and stretching as his feet hit the floor, Nathaniel shrugged. “The only way to defeat what’s coming is with an offensive attack and the full force of the Avengers.”

“And withholding information until you can verify that unity really seems like the best way to go?” Maximoff quirked a brow. She glanced over to Loki, shaking her head.

Nate groaned inwardly. “Look, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been through this a time or two already.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It always ends the same – with some of the group sitting around _talking_ about what to do, while the others take the information I’ve given them and run off, guns blazing, to try handling things on their own.”

Nathaniel paused, grimacing as he remembered some of the gorier scenes. He wondered how much to tell. Finally, he just shook his head and settled on saying, “It never ends well for us.”

“Okay,” Maximoff said hesitantly. “A compromise, then. You just tell us a bit, like – a name,” she suggested. “And then we’ll all get together to discuss the rest.”

Nathaniel gave her an unimpressed look. Then he sighed exaggeratedly and dropped his head in his hands. To the floor, he mutted, “We’re wasting time here.”

The room was silent for a brief moment. Then, Maximoff spoke, her voice quiet and deathly serious as she said, “Rama-Tut.”

Nathaniel’s head whipped in the Witch’s direction, eyes wide. “How do you know that name?” he hissed.

“A source,” Maximoff told him sternly. “What does it mean to you?”

“A source, from this ‘verse?” Nathaniel prodded. “Because if so, then that means—”

“What?” Maximoff asked excitedly.

Nate stopped thinking out loud, staring at the woman and then at Loki.

With a groan, Maximoff approached, kneeling down in front of Nate. “Nathaniel. Tell us,” she pleaded.

Finally, Nathaniel answered her: “If someone here knows that name, it means _he_ was already here – a long time ago.”

“Who? Rama-Tut?” Maximoff asked urgently. “If it he was already here, does that mean we’re safe?”

Nate shook his head dejectedly. “You don’t get it. No one, no time, no place, is ever safe from him.”

“How is that possible? Who is he? What’s going to happen?” Maximoff urged, her eyes wide and begging.

Nathaniel closed his eyes and shook his head softly. Then, Maximoff shifted a bit closer, making Nate open his eyes to watch her movements. She leaned forward slightly. Very quietly, she asked, “Is he coming because of you?”

The question took Nate by surprise, and he stared at the Sokovian in surprise. Her eyes darted to the side, toward the one-way mirror where they had an audience that Nate could only speculate about. Then, Maximoff glanced back at him with a worried look. “I need to know if he would be coming here whether you had come or not,” she whispered harshly.

“Wha—why are you asking that?” Nate whispered back, furrowing his brows.

“Just, please, tell me.”

Nathaniel stared at her, confused. Before he could respond and before she could make another plea, there was an annoyed growl from the other side of the room. Suddenly, Loki was kneeling in front of Nate, too. Nathaniel had enough wits about him to scoot back slightly, knowing full well what the _pair_ was capable of (despite Loki’s jokes earlier). But it didn’t do any good. Because Nate was still within arm’s reach and that was all Loki needed.

Loki reached out with one hand, placing two fingers against Nate’s temple.

Nathaniel felt the tingle of seiðr and an unpleasant pressure building, which quickly became unbearable. He wanted to pull away, but found himself incapable of moving. And even though he’d known what was coming in the seconds before it happened, he was unprepared and woefully unequipped to defend himself against the magical onslaught. There was a significant amount of force, centered around his forehead and temple and the base of his neck, giving him a massive headache. But worse than that was the _itching_.

Everything itched. It was like a million little insects were moving around in his brain and he didn’t know how to get them out or how to satisfy the horrible creepy-crawly sensation.

When the seiðr finally released its hold on him, Nate fell back against the bed with a shout.

He quickly righted himself, sitting criss-cross and holding his head in his hands, rocking back and forth and trying to will the pain and irritation that the invasion had caused.

Distantly, he heard voices. And ragged breathing. When he finally managed to open his eyes—squinting, because the fluorescent lights were killing him—he saw Loki on all fours on the floor, struggling to catch his breath.

At some point, the door had opened and Thor had come in with Valkyrie. And there was static electricity in the air as Thor glared at Nathaniel, his eyes glowing an electric blue.

Maximoff had a hand on Loki’s back and was looking worriedly at the god.

“What just happened?” Sam shouted, breaking through the din in Nate’s head.

Finally, Loki managed to pull himself up, sitting on his knees and leaning back on his heels. He still looked slightly shaken but waved a hand, pushing Maximoff away. “I’m all right,” he said, his voice a bit raspy, while climbing to his feet. Then, looking at Nate, Loki narrowed his eyes in suspicion. His voice was a bit stronger when he asked, “What _are_ you?”

Nathaniel sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, the glaring lights too much for him. The other people in the room continued speaking around him.

“Okay, seriously, what happened?” Someone – Sam? – asked again.

“What happened was—” Loki paused, letting out an irritated growl. “Thor! Would you stop with the theatrics?”

The static in the air lessened slightly, but when Nate squinted with one eye, the blue-white of Thor’s eyes hadn’t faded and there sparks at his fingertips. Without another word, Loki turned and walked out of the room. The others glanced to each other for a few moments, before rushing out after him. Then, Nate was alone again.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Loki walked faster than was probably necessary. He would have preferred to skywalk as far away as possible. But that would have looked too much like fleeing, and he was not about to give anyone that satisfaction. So instead he just stormed off, making his way up the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator.

“Loki!” Thor’s voice, laced with concern, boomed down the hall behind him. “Brother, wait!” Thor shouted at him, alongside Valkyrie’s, “Lackey!”

“Hey, c’mon, man. Slow down,” Rhodes called.

Loki just kept climbing the steps, stopping only when a hand wrapped around his wrist. On instinct, he grabbed the owner of the hand, slamming the offender into the wall.

“Hey!” Several voices shouted, accusing. And at once, Loki knew without looking, weapons were trained on him.

“I’m sorry,” Wanda Maximoff said gently, holding her hands up where Loki had her pinned to the wall. “I just, wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I’m fine,” Loki insisted.

“Then you would do well to release her,” the one they called Vision stated. His voice was calm but firm, the threat undeniable.

Releasing the Witch, Loki backed up, placing himself several steps away on the landing they were on within the stairwell. Vision turned to Wanda but she smiled and waved him off. Wilson and Rhodes were both watching Loki warily, and the Captain was hovering above them, encased in orange light.

“He meant no harm,” Thor quickly inserted, raising his own hands as he stepped closer to Loki. Whether it was meant to be in surrender to the others or placating and non-defensive toward Loki, it was impossible to say.

“Do not speak for me,” Loki hissed. Thor stopped in his tracks.

“What the hell happened in there?” Wilson questioned for the third time.

“I entered his mind,” Loki answered plainly.

The man narrowed his eyes, clearly unamused. Through gritted teeth, he asked, “And what did you learn from the kid?”

Loki scoffed. “That is no ‘kid.’”

“What d’ya mean?” Valkyrie leaned against the stairwell, her brow arching with curiosity.

“His mind has several lifetimes’ worth of memories.” Looking pointedly at the do-gooders amongst him, Loki said, “There is much more to that _being_ than he lets on.”

“What about Rama-Tut?” The Captain queried, no longer glowing and was standing with her arms folded over her chest.

Loki looked to the blonde. “That is but one name out of several for which your threat is known. And it is an old one.”

“So when he said that knowing that name meant the baddie had already been here. . .” Danvers let her voice trail off, looking between Loki and Wanda expectantly.

“In our reality, the threat he speaks of has already come and gone. Centuries ago, under the guise of Rama-Tut.” Loki shook his head softly. “But this being travels across the Multiverse. The fact that he’s already been here in one incarnation will not prevent him from making an appearance.”

“So, who’s coming now, then?” Wilson climbed the remaining steps to the landing. “I mean, if it’s not this Egyptian wannabe, then who is it?”

Loki grimaced. “Something far worse.” He sighed, leaning back against the stair’s railing. “He is called Kang.” After a brief pause, Loki elaborated, “Kang the Conqueror.”

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

**_Meanwhile, in the Soul World. . ._ **

Ava yelped, dropping the screwdriver as she was – once again – shocked by the particle device.

Natasha was leaning with her elbows on the counter, watching with a somewhat amused smirk. Gamora stepped into the room, sipping a cup of coffee, just as Ava threw her hands up and stepped back from the work-table.

“That’s it,” she announced. “I’ve ben electrocuted one too many times today.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Nat crooned. “Keep trying.”

Ava shot the Black Widow a heated glare. “You’re a sadist, y’know that?”

Natasha stood up straight, smiling. “Stop trying to sweet-talk me.”

Gamora set her mug down and leaned forward, looking at the device. “What’s the problem, exactly?”

With a sigh, Ava ran a hand through her hair. “I dunno. _That’s_ the problem. I’ve no idea what I’m doing!” Her tone had become increasingly panicked as she spoke, until she shouted the last bit and was flailing her arms in frustration.

Gamora clicked her tongue before picking up the accelerator, inspecting it closely. She ran her fingers along the metal, furrowing her brows lightly. She rubbed one spot a couple times, then held it out toward Ava, pointing at the spot she’d been examining. “Is that divot supposed to be there?”

Ava leaned forward, squinting at the small area that Gamora was referencing. Indeed, there was a little dent. Taking the device out of Gamora’s green hand, Ava pulled it up close for a better look. “This must be the part that caused it to appear broken,” Ava muttered. From close up, she could see that the dent had caused the metal to separate a bit, so it was no longer air-tight like it was supposed to be.

“The particles are supposed to interact with one another in a certain way. But this stops that from happening.”

Gamora nodded, apparently in agreement, but then frowned. “Well, they’re obviously still able to interact, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Natasha walked around the counter, standing next to Ava so she look at the device herself. “So, it still works. Just, not consistently.”

“Or reliably,” Gamora added.

“Which means we could try it 999 times and having nothing happen, but then it’d work on the thousandth.” Ava groaned in frustration.

Natasha leaned on the table again. “Well, we’ve got nothing but time.”

Ava sighed, setting the equipment down. “But I don’t have a way to target or direct it. So if it’s all wonky, I wouldn’t trust it to just, like, take us where we want it to go.”

Gamora grimaced. “It could drop us somewhere a lot worse.”

Suddenly, Natasha gasped, straightened up, and vaulted herself over the table before bolting out of the room.

“Uh, where’s she off to, then?” Ava asked. In response, Gamora only shrugged and took another drink from her coffee mug.

When Natasha returned, she marched triumphantly into the room, carrying a folded-up article of clothing in front of her. She paused in front of table, looking down at the article she held. “Something told me I should keep this,” she muttered, almost to herself. Looking up, she had a shit-eating grin on her face. She shook out the outfit and held it up, revealing a silver and black jumpsuit. It looked like it had seen better days, with a few tears and some scuff marks, but was otherwise in good condition.

Natasha dropped the jumper on the table. “You say you need a way to target the quantum leap?”

“Yeah,” Ava responded, slowly and carefully.

Positioning the jumpsuit a certain way, Natasha pointed to the belt that sat at the waist. “How about this?”

Ava leaned forward, looking closely at the belt. With a start, she realized she’d seen the suit before, because several people she knew had one just like it. The red, stylized ‘A’ on the arm confirmed that it was, indeed, one of the quantum suits that the Avengers had used in their Time Heist.

The very suit that Natasha had been wearing when she’d sacrificed herself for the Avengers and their quest to collect the Infinity Stones.

Ava couldn’t help feeling a bit emotional about that knowledge. But she pushed it down, focusing instead on the mechanics of the suit. The belt was what allowed the wearer to travel across space and time. And it did indeed appear to be a more elegant design, compared to the significantly older tech Ava was working with from the old suit Cassie had been using.

“Well?” Natasha’s voice pulled Ava from her reverie. Only then did the girl realize she’d been running her fingers along the suit and she stopped, looking up at Natasha. “Could you target the jump with stuff from the suit?”

The smile that spread across Ava’s face couldn’t be contained if she’d tried. “Actually,” she began, “why not make it easy and just use the suit itself?”

Gamora looked surprised, her eyes widening. Natasha frowned slightly, not totally convinced. “The suit doesn’t work. How are you going to use it?”

Ava grinned, holding up the capsule she’d been working on. “I just need to move some things over, to combine the accelerator and particles I have with the tech from the suit.”

“And that’ll work?” Gamora raised a brow, ever skeptical.

‘I’m quite certain this actually gives us a chance.” Ava’s smile grew even bigger, if that was possible. She didn’t waste any time pulling out the capsules of Pym particles, and inspecting the belt on Natasha’s suit.

Nat and Gamora watched as Ava worked with renewed vigor, reveling in the prospect of being able to make it home - which seemed far more real than it had been moments before.


End file.
